The Afterlife Expert Talking to the Flipside

As promised, I've edited my book talk this past weekend at Center for the Heart in Santa Barbara.

In this first hour, I recount my journey to this work, and why I'm spending time trying to figure out how anyone can communicate with their loved ones on the flipside.

That's here:




As you can see from these two clips, I did a variation of my Flipside book talks, with a focus on "talking to our loved ones on the other side."

There were two folks that I met just prior to my talk - one was Roxy Angel Superstar, who works at Center of the Heart chapel in Santa Barbara, and the Reverend Maryum Morse.  I have never met them before, and neither was that familiar with my work or research.

Roxy had seen my speak at the IANDS group in Santa Barbara, where I did a live demonstration with a woman at that even of revisiting her near death experience. However, she felt that the details that we explored were too intimate, and did not want me to share the event with my audience.

However, in this case, we weren't discussing a near death event - something that is pretty profound when it happens and can be hard to process.  In this case, Reverend Maryum had a vivid dream where she saw her dying father suddenly sit up "out of his body" as a young healthy man - he did it a number of times, and then she became aware of a crowd of people around his bed.

I asked if she had a memory of that dream, and she said she did.

In Roxy's case, she said she had an out of body experience when conceiving her child - it actually felt like she left her body and was in space.

In both cases, I'm not using hypnosis. I'm just asking them to access the memory of that event, and then asking if we can examine it further.

The results are here:




The point isn't that I'm accessing the flipside.

The point is that they're accessing the flipside in their own visual spectrum. I'm not conjuring anything up, or trying to get someone on the flipside to "talk" - the key here is that neither was familiar with me or my work, had no idea what they'd find, and as you'll see - in both cases they say things that are nearly identical to the research in my books; "Flipside" "It's a Wonderful Afterlife" volumes one and two and "Hacking the Afterlife."

I've done this a few times now and it doesn't matter who I do it with - mediums, people who've had near death experiences, people who've had out of body experiences - anyone who's had a dream.

It's not for everyone.

But I'm posting it here - pretty much unedited for the most part - to show the "Martini Method."





If you're interested in helping me further this research, please consider donating to my new book "The Afterlife Expert" which is being crowd funded through www.GoFundMe.com/theafterlifeexpert

Thanks for your support.

The Afterlife Expert

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New book campaign...

https://www.gofundme.com/theafterlifeexpert

Save the Universe

Jesus showed up in my coffee shop today.

For those of you who experience Catholic brain freeze (as I do when I hear his name) you probably need to move along to another blog, or another post.  I wouldn't linger here too long, as it's going to get funky up in here in a moment.

For fans of "Hacking the Afterlife" stick around.  It will be interesting, I promise.  I'm in the midst of working on the next book, don't have a solid title yet, but while I'm in writing mode, I tend to see things in terms of chapters.

How can Jesus show up in a coffee shop?  Well, as I told this fellow - who looked kind of startled, upset, freaked out at what he was "seeing" while I was talking to him, I tried to reassure him it was normal.

"Try not to judge it.  Just let it be whatever it is. It could be your imagination and that's fine. You could be conjuring up this face, but don't let that freak you out." I hastened to add; "You're sitting in pretty much the same table at the same cafe where he's shown up a half dozen other times to people I'm chatting with.  So it's not it's the first time he's appeared while having a coffee in Caffe Luxxe, but I understand it's disconcerting for you.  It's not for me. Allow that it "Could be your imagination. Could be someone pretending to be him. Or... could be him."

But let's see how we got here first of all.

A friend of mine invited me to meet up with his friend about a project in the film business. (My other world.) I met with him about a month ago, specifically to help him and his business partner, did what I could to paint a realistic picture of the difficulties ahead with this venture, but also, as I do when I talk to people about whatever project they have in mind, to address on some level why this project is meaningful -- "on a spiritual level."  

"What is it in your conscious life that has led you to this endeavor, and how will it help the planet?"

This fellow understood what I was asking, but his partner did not.  His world view is firmly planted in the "materialist science" world - i.e., what happens in your lifetime is based on factors of genetics, sociological and human wants. Nothing spiritual about it.  

I pointed out to his partner that my decade of research in this arena has led me to include a spiritual aspect to why we do things, why we find ourselves involved with any number of projects, and how they may have a deeper meaning to our life's path.  

The young fellow dismissed that concept entirely (I wound up asking him "So how old are you anyway?" and when he said his age I said "See? That's as far as you've gotten so far. You'll get there eventually.")

But his partner has a family member who is working on consciousness studies, and he understood what I was referring to, and asked if we could meet up at a later date.  He had some unusual events happen to him in his youth, and he was eager to discuss them with me.

Today we did so.  

In the "OA" she met with a guide

I had mentioned how Mario Beauregard, PhD, a neuroscientist, had this apotheosis when he was 12 where he was walking in the woods behind his home in Canada, and suddenly felt this wave of euphoria, and saw how "everything and everyone is connected."  

HHDL and Mario B

When Mario told me about that, I noted a number of other people who've had this same kind of event in their lives - Sir Francis Younghusband one of them - where it altered their life's path.  

Younghusband was a soldier in the British army at the time, but "put down his rifle" and created the "council of world religions" which exists to this day. 

In Mario's case, he's spent the past 30 years using science to explain what he experienced ("Brain Wars" is one of his books, he's interviewed in "It's a Wonderful Afterlife" and speaks in his native tongue, French, on these topics on youtube.)

But today my new friend told me that he had a similar event when he was about 10 years old. 

It was New Year's Eve, so he remembered the date, and he had gone upstairs to take a bath.  And while in the tub, he suddenly was "transported" to a space that was "somewhere else in the universe."  He said it was like he was "outside in outer space" and a voice spoke to him.  The voice said to him (in French - I asked) "Save the Universe."  He heard it a number of times, and when he got out of the bath, he was so freaked out by the event, he went downstairs and tried to tell his incredulous brother.

My friend said the event and those same words came to him a number of other times.

I said, "Well let's explore this for a moment.  Can you remember the sound of the voice?"  He said "Yes, that it was a strong voice, and it was a command... as if telling me that I was supposed to do something."  I said "How old did the voice sound?"  He thought for a moment, said "Old, older than 50 perhaps."  I said, "Is this voice a stranger, a friend, a soul mate or a spirit guide?"  I tend to not think too long and hard about what my next question is going to be, but by giving him four choices, I figured that included "I have no idea."

He said "guide."  I said "Okay, Mr. Guide, can you give us a name or a letter of a name to address you?"  He said "G."  He couldn't come up with a name, really, and I said "Fine, let's be George for the moment...  So George, what did you mean by that statement which scared the hell out of this ten year old; "Save the Universe?"

He couldn't access an answer. I said "By universe do you mean everything that's in our universe? Or is that a figurative term to include other dimensions?"  He said he felt it to mean "Everything, everywhere."  

I said "Okay, George, give our friend an image of yourself at an early age, something that he can identify and look at. What do you see?"

He said "I don't want to say it. But he looks like Jesus."  

I said "Try not to judge it. Either it's your imagination giving you an image, or it's someone pretending to look like him, or it's him." (Without mentioning how many times he's shown up in this very same cafe as I've spoken to friends who "don't believe in him" friends from India, friends from around the globe who don't have any connection to "him" but for some reason "see him" in a dream, out of body experience, or some other event.)  I asked him to describe him, physically.

He said "Brown eyes, but lighter, with bits of green and yellow."  I said "You mean gold?"  He said "Yes, gold. Longer hair, about down to the shoulder." (As noted, he's shown up with "gold flecks" in his eyes a number of times.  He's also shown up with blue eyes, which I ascribe to the person who is seeing him... but the "gold" part I've heard at least three different times.) 

I said "So what do you mean by telling our friend here at age ten that he has to save the universe?"  

He couldn't answer. I said "Are you trying to tell him that he needs to impart information about the nature of the universe, how understanding how the afterlife works will serve to save the universe?"  

He said "Yes. That's what it means."  I said, "Okay, let's appreciate for a moment that you heard this message when you were ten and it's taken you 30 years to run into a fellow who can help you understand or interpret it."

"Save the Universe."

By helping people to understand the nature of reality.  How we don't die, how we move into another realm where everyone is equal, where there is no hierarchy.  

"Home." 

Where we access our loved ones, our memories of previous lives, where we plan our future ones.  And how by accessing that information, that knowledge, and somehow helping get it into the world, it will ultimately help the universe.

At least that's my interpretation of it.

I didn't know what my new friend did for a living.  He said "It's in sales."  

I said "Well, then, you must have a unique ability to bring things to people that maybe they didn't know they would need or want, but it's important for them to have. And perhaps you knew you'd chosen this life to help sell one of the biggest spiritual concepts that's ever been tackled."  He said "I'm getting the feeling it's going to be a big fight."

He said that he thought people would be upset about hearing about an alternate reality with regard to the universe. ("Taking the red pill.")

I said "You mean people will be upset about that?  Of course they will be.  Everything they've invested in up until now will be meaningless.  The accumulation of wealth instead of friends, the pursuit of material objects instead of the pursuit of giving or sharing love, the idea that we need drugs or chemicals to alter our reality so that we can somehow dull it... all of that will go out the window."

I also said "Try not stress too much over the idea. It's a tall order. "Save the Universe." 

You have to consider that this person was telling you this sentence in precisely the way he wanted you to hear it. So you would remember it.  It may relate to your soul's purpose, not only in this life, but in future lives.  

Try not to judge your path too harshly - but I suggest that something will come forward to you what will help you to fulfill this idea - perhaps because your relative is working in consciousness studies - but be prepared for it to come. 

Now that you understand who said this to you, the next step will be to understand why they said it to you."

So, if there's anything you can take away from this post, on a hot day in August in Santa Monica, CA - it's that it's up to each of us to save the universe.  

It's up to each us to examine the nature of reality to see if what these folks are saying is true. 

That we are here temporarily, that eventually we return home - but while we're here we can all share in the feelings of unconditional love that we give to each other. And by coming to terms with that, indeed, you will have saved the universe.

My two cents.

Maximum Selfie and other thoughts on the S word

I received this email today, and with the author's permission, am sharing it here.

Divine Light or dust in the Vatican?

"Dear Rich,

I lost my beautiful 23 yr old daughter to suicide a year and a half ago.  There were a lot of factors that hit at once, creating a perfect storm, and she decided to go.  

As you would imagine, this caused the kind of pain to me that dropped me to my knees, hurt my chest, made me physically ill for months.  

Having had a mother who was a clairvoyant (and moments of my own that come in unexpected bursts), and having attended my local Buddhist Center for about 12 years, I began searching for something.  Peace, validation, anything.   

After reading everyone else’s books, I read all of yours and really did like them best.  

I did the best that I could, but it is hard to quell a grieving mother’s pain, and she was on my mind often.  

About three months after (her) dying, she came to me in a dream/vision/lucid thing and told me that she will be coming back, as her  brother’s child.  I have told her brother, but he has not told his wife!  

Three weeks ago, I went to the hospital with trouble breathing.  It turns out, I was in the middle of active heart failure.   I am in my 50's, and my co-workers were in shock as I appear to be the healthiest there!  

Heathy eating, exercise, etc.  When I went in, I really did not care whether I lived or died.   The cardiologist found that I needed a double bypass, and I didn’t care.   I called my son, and told him (what I wanted him to do with my belongings) and had the surgery.   
Two days after surgery, I developed blood clots in my leg and one in each side of my heart.  The doctors were stunned, as this is apparently a rare complication and very life threatening. They put me on strong blood thinners, IV.  With the lighting in Intensive Care, sleep was elusive.   

I had several “incidents” while in there.  One was a foggy, distant vision of what you would call a council meeting, except I wasn’t included.  I was the subject, though.  

It seemed one cloudy spirit was discussing me, presenting my case to the five indistinct shapes in front of me.  I asked that they please, please send help to break up the clots, because I wanted to go home.  My significant other is an introvert, and (I feel it would be hard to leave him on his own...)

I was also thinking of my son, who has no one but me left. Grandparents, his father, friends, he (like me) has more people on that side than on this, and I knew (my leaving would be difficult.)  

The spirits seemed to take this into account, but there were a couple things they wanted me to know. The first was that my grief was causing an attachment that is preventing my daughter from moving forward and coming back.  

The second came in a separate incident.  I had always suspected I had been in the Holocaust and I saw myself, in a different body (trimmer and slight) rushing at dusk to Shabbat.  

I didn’t even know what Shabbat was until I looked it up the next morning!  But I recalled the cobbled street, the rush to get inside before nightfall, and the awful horror of being caught out.  
A night or two later, I was moved to a private room, which would allow for sleep.  But, I laid awake and could feel long fingers on a very small hand reaching into my heart and “squishing up” the clots.

Friday, the cardiologists gathered, as they generally do in scary groups. They told me they would repeat the ultrasound test to determine the size of the clots.  If they were the same or bigger, they would transport me to a hospital about 30 miles east of me.  
IF they showed any sign of reducing, they would send me home on coumadin and a wearable vest with an external defibrillator.  They said that once the clots became small enough to move out of the heart, in 2-3 months, they could cause a stroke, so I’d wear the vest daily.   Those were the choices.  

Once of them started to say, "If they had dissipated..." but trailed off and told me to "never mind, as that wasn’t possible."  

I knew what was possible, and had told my significant other.  He said when they came into the waiting room, he could tell the cardiologist couldn’t believe it, but the clots were entirely GONE.   

So, I am home, recovering.  

I have always been extremely disturbed when others are hungry, although I have no problem skipping meals myself.  But, seeing hungry people kills me, and watching the movie “Into the Wild” threw me into uncontrollable hysterics.  

I think they were providing me with a reason why, and perhaps I can help heal the past by volunteering at a local food bank.  As for my daughter, I am working on the grief.  I have spent years in meditation and “training the mind”, so when the thoughts intrude, I calmly redirect them now.  She isn’t forgotten at all!  I am glad to be here, to welcome her when she comes back!

I saw a story in the last Good Housekeeping.  A mother lost her daughter, to Cerebral Palsy I believe.  And, Mom then became pregnant right through a tubal!  They are so astonished at how much the new baby reminds them of the lost child.  

Why, oh why, do people raised in Western faiths not believe that their God can do ANYTHING? They deny the very possibilities, limiting their own God.  

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." Alice in Wonderland. And so should we.

Thank you for the wonderful work that you do.  I follow your blog, receive and read your every email and look forward to your future work...."

My reply:

"Wow. Thanks for sharing this. It's very moving. I'm sorry to hear of your trauma but so encouraged to hear of your spiritual journey. 

There are a few Michael Newton trained therapists near you. A session might allow you further access as well as some answers and new observations. 

The Maestro Michael Newton
"Journey of Souls"

Also check out Carol Bowman book "Children's Past Lives" and website are worth checking out. Erik Medhus book "My life after Death" is worth reading, Galen Stoller's "My Life after Life" or "The Afterlife of Billie Fingers" all give insight into what your daughter is experiencing.

Either way thank you for sharing. Perhaps I can share some of it on my blog so others can experience your story? "

Her reply:

"Actually, I’ve read all of those and more!  

I will be looking for a hypnotist near me. No hurry in this moment.

And, of course you can share!  That’s why we’re here, right?" 

Hacking the Afterlife

And my reply:

"Thank you.

Well, I've had pals interested in the topic reach out to hypnotists near you before, and come away with a bad experience - or no experience.  So before you see one, make sure you've done your research on them - most hypnotists don't have a clue about the flipside, or about Michael Newton's work. That's why I recommend people who've trained with him or his institute... and some of them are doing skype sessions now... or you can ask. 

(I think Scott De Tamble lightbetweenlives.com might be, you can ask him.)  

JenniferShaffer.com (medium) and Scott De Tamble (hypnotherapist)
My two secret weapons when I want to address or interview the flipside.

"By the way; I think it's time we stopped using the term suicide... but I can't think of a more apt one that allows for grieving and loss - after all, even if they are somewhere else, or aren't here - it's a loss to not have them around.... and it's always tricky when they decide they want to come back right away - did they learn the lessons they were trying to learn?  

It's one of those long discussions with council and guides and soul group members....  because over there is the natural state of affairs... not here.  So when we discuss coming back here "right away" it's usually because we feel as if we didn't accomplish what we set out to do.  And there's no punishment in that - there's no "spanking machine" for failing to accomplish your goals.  (Something I remember from my days of playing "Kick the Can.")

There's regret, to be sure, perhaps the pain and sorry of making everyone else suffer through the experience - that's reported consistently.  But those are emotions we feel regret about - that we feel awful about when we've done something that has screwed up our path or the paths of those we love.

But the flipside is a place of unconditional love. It's a place of ultimate compassion. It's a place where we can see why we've done things, why we've come to the fork in the road, and how not to be swept away by it the next time around.  It's a place of ultimate reflection and learning.

So once someone goes "home" - what's the big hurry to get out of the house?  Chill awhile.  Reflect.  Everyone you've ever loved will eventually join you - and the time over there is so relatively different, it'll feel like ten minutes went by.

So "ultimate selfie" - "maximum selfie" come to mind as alternatives for "The S word." The idea that we get so wrapped up in our minds (sometimes because of ssri drugs as I've mentioned in my books, or allowing the amygdala to control our emotions, etc) - that we can't think of anything but checking ourselves out... 

But as we know, as science proves - the physical act of helping others - and in your case helping in a food bank - are physical things that we can do to "cure or alleviate depression."  

To alter the repository of depression - regulated by the amygdala - to allow for a more compassionate flow in our minds - (See "Tonglen Meditation" as a Tibetan meditation that helps regulate this, as proven scientifically by Richard Davidson at the University of Wisconsin) 

Davidson with a monk described as the
"Happiest person on the planet" according to former neuroscientist turned Tibetan Buddhist monk Matthieu Ricard's MRI.

I attended a lecture by Davidson at UCLA and it was filled with psychiatrists eager to find an alternative to prescribing SSRI drugs to teens.  There had been a spike in suicides - and Davidson's research on Tibetan monks - a ten year study - showed that just one session of meditation could change the physical shape of the amygdala.  

Further that meditation can "cure or alleviate symptoms of depression."  It's not a religious concept - or a yoga method - but a scientific method.  Meditate on healing and helping others and you heal yourself. (I asked him specifically what Tibetan Meditation he used in the study, and he told me "Tonglen" - which means "give and take" and is designed for the meditator to heal or cure someone else in their mind.)  

In Davidson's study, monks trained in meditation were used.

What I realized is that this "mental act of helping others" - is reflected/identical to the physical act of helping others.  

In other words "Love your neighbor as yourself" and physically help them - can cure you or alleviate symptoms of depression.

Helping others actually helps us... I'm fond of saying that when someone is super depressed, get on a plane and go to India... the people over there live in such difficult circumstances, yet have the brightest smiles, the happiest dispositions - and I think it's because under extreme conditions, in a culture that believes that life is temporary, and that we all return here - they can enjoy the ride for what it is.... 

Of course there are all kinds of people in India - there are good guys, bad guys, criminals, sadhus, holy men, pandits - as in every culture - but when I'm in India I literally feel like I'm on Mars.  

So it's really hard to focus on whatever I thought was depressing when there's so many people who need my immediate help, even if it's a stick of gum or a smile.

So when depressed, go to Mars.

One of my many trips to Mars.

Anyways, thanks for writing, yes, I'm working on the next book - as we speak....

Thanks for the encouraging words - you who need encouragement to be on the planet as well - and I believe sharing your story will help someone neither one of us knows." (Who's been guided by a loved on on the flipside to this page.)

Everyone you've ever loved is keeping an eye on you.  But don't take my word for it. They're trying to tell that to you.

Post Script:

When I was writing this post, as I started to refer to the suicide mentioned in her email, I had the feeling I should include some information about SSRI drugs and Davidson's work at the University of Wisconsin. 

I refer to them in my books - it's a topic I'm familiar with, and have done research on.

SSRI drugs are the ones commonly given to treat depression and a variety of other symptoms not related to depression.  ("Prozac," "Zoloft" and others). I first encountered them in Europe when a filmmaker friend committed suicide a few weeks after finishing his film. His wife was befuddled as he was the happiest he'd ever been, but was having trouble sleeping. He was given Prozac to help him sleep.

On the other hand, I have heard a number of people say their lives were "saved" by SSRI drugs. They are offended when I talk about them, and I've even been asked to leave them out of my books.

According to a physician I interviewed for Flipside, up to 15% of the folks who take SSRI drugs can't tolerate them. (He said there's a simple test that Doctors don't give.) 

And these people have the "adverse effects" - the warnings that are buried deep in the website of the drug manufacturers. (By law, they have to publish them. They're rarely on the drug itself, but they are in the drug literature in the pharma co's site.)

As a point of fact, every mass shooting since Columbine has had an SSRI component - the shooter or shooters had taken them, sometimes in their teen years.  As I've noted, the NIMH issued a warning on their website about prescribing SSRI drugs to children under 18 AS THEY HAVE NOT BEEN TESTED for that.  They were seeing a spike in suicides and were warning doctors from prescribing adult medicine for children. (And also the reason that Davidson's talk at UCLA was standing room only.  He queried the room as to why they'd come to his talk, and they spoke of how they were looking for "alternative" therapies to prescribing SSRI drugs.)

This is not my opinion, belief or theory. These facts are easy to find in the literature about these drugs.  Yet for some reason, like the S word, we tend to ignore what we don't like to hear.  I understand that. But I post this anyway.

After I posted this today, I received this email from the mother of the daughter who killed herself: 

"I hadn’t even mentioned, but they had put her on the SSRI drugs. They were switching her prescription at the time, she was hormonal and when she failed a test (in school) that day, she (killed) herself.

 When I tried going to a suicide survivor group, I was shocked by how many of the living and the dead had prescriptions for those drugs.  

We are a drugged society.  One of our monks did a teaching on it, pointing out how many people believe physical “things” bring them happiness.  

If they did, you would think Americans would be the happiest people on earth!  But, as you know, it is the poorest who are the most generous, and giving to others brings true happiness."

Well said ma'am.  

Like I say, I'm terribly sorry for her loss, but perhaps by sharing it someone else will think twice about a prescription for their children that includes SSRI medication. 

Be vigilant. 
Do the research. 
Go to the drug manufacturer's website.
Get a second opinion.
Check into Davidson's work at the University of Wisconsin.  It's breathtaking science.

My two cents.

Staying Open to the Flipside With Sherman Alexie

It sounds so simple.

Just stay open.

Just let go.

Don't hang onto the past.  Don't anticipate the future.  Just experience now.

A sunset is the last chorus before the new symphony begins.

These concepts are usually associated with eastern philosophy - but they are often repeated in between life sessions, by people who've had a near death experience, or by people who are able to meditate whenever they want.

I've been going down another path entirely.

My father designed this addition to this home.
Believe it or not, looking at it I can "feel his presence" in the design.
Am I seeing a ghost? Or the energy of my father's creative mind?

I've realized that people are much more connected to the Flipside than they think they are.

We hear it often when people talk about a loved one who's passed away.  I'll ask, so have you had any kind of visitation from your loved one?  And they think I'm asking if they've "seen" their loved one appear before them.

That's really rare.  

It happens.  I have a close friend whose mom saw her husband show up in his PJ's one night - she said he just "walked in like he used to" then walked to his familiar side of the bed, then climbed in.  He looked at her and said "I just wanted you to know I'm okay." 

My aunt told me that the night her husband passed away, he appeared to her at the end of the bed and said "I'm okay. I love you" and then disappeared as the phone rang to tell her that he had passed.  I told this story to her daughter and she said "Bullshit." (not something she wanted to hear or comprehend.  That's okay too.)

Recently author Sherman Alexie had to cancel his book tour because his mother was showing up in his dreams and bothering him.  Showing up in a variety of ways that disturbed him.


Sherman Alexie, author and friend of KUOW, posted this letter to his Facebook page on Thursday.

"If you're reading this open letter then you're probably aware that I recently published a memoir, “You Don't Have to Say You Love Me.” 

Author and filmmaker Sherman Alexie waits with dancers backstage for his turn on stage as the keynote speaker at a celebration of Indigenous Peoples’ Day Monday, Oct. 10, 2016, at Seattle's City Hall. AP PHOTO/ELAINE THOMPSON

"The memoir is mostly about my relationship with my late mother, Lillian Alexie. She was a complicated and difficult person. She was sometimes cruel and often cold. I loved her, yes, but I sometimes hated her, too. She was brilliant, funny, beautiful, generous, vindictive, deceitful, tender, manipulative, abusive, loving, and intimidating. She was one of the last fluent speakers of our tribal language. The language is being taught again. And that's wonderful and life-giving. But when my mother died, she took with her so many words, stories, and songs that will never be heard again. Lillian was a storyteller in Spokane and English. She was also a quilter, an amazing artisan and artist. She was industrious and visionary. 

And, after writing this memoir, I am able to proudly admit that I inherited many of my mother's best qualities and ruefully confess that I also inherited many of her worst. 

I am my mother's son.

Lillian haunted me when she was alive. And she has haunted me since her death in July, 2015."

(RM: OBJECTION! You're honor I find the word "haunting" to be unduly influential, and a pejorative.  If he used the word "showing up" or "in my subconscious mind" it would be more palatable, but I digress.)

"And she has haunted me in spectacular ways since I published my memoir a month ago. She has followed me from city to city during my promotional book tour. On three consecutive nights, in three different cities, police and ambulance sirens rang out as I told the story about the moment I learned of my mother's death.

In another city, in a hotel whose decor can best be described as Bram Stroker's Ikea, I stepped out of the elevator to see a handmade quilt hanging on the wall. Why was such a quaint piece of Americana being displayed in such a trendy hotel?

"Hello, Mom," I said to that quilt each time I walked by it.

Last night, as I returned to Seattle, I stepped off my plane to see an airport valet waiting with a wheelchair for one of my fellow passengers. That valet held a sign with a familiar name—a name that made me laugh. That valet was waiting to ferry somebody named Lillian. 

As I write in the memoir, I don't believe in ghosts, but I see them all the time.

(RM: "Believe" "don't believe." These are judgmental terms. One can say I've looked at the consistent reports and must say that it's never happened to me.  But those who have experienced these events obviously had an experience that I have not."  But I digress)

As I also write in the memoir, I don't believe in magic, but I believe in interpreting coincidence exactly the way you want to. I don't believe in the afterlife as a reality, but I believe in the afterlife as metaphor. And my mother, from the afterlife, is metaphorically kicking my ass.

(RM: People ask me all the time if I "believe in the afterlife." And I say "I don't believe in anything. I look at the evidence, which is consistent and replicable of those who claim they can access their loved ones on the flipside.  I prefer to keep my "beliefs" separate from eyewitness reports.  You can call it a belief - but it's like describing jumping into a pool to someone who has never done it.  "Yes, I believe if I jump in that liquid over there, I will survive, I will not disappear, and in fact I will feel refreshed."  The other person can say "I don't believe it."  And even after you jump out of the pool, they can argue "Well you really were never in the pool. Because you're out of the pool now."  It's semantics. But I digress)

"Two weeks ago, during a private academic event, I was speaking to a man from another country. The room was crowded and busy and loud. That man and I had to raise our voices in order to hear each other. I loudly told him about my memoir. I loudly told him about my tribe. I loudly told him about my mother. I loudly told him that she was a ghost who haunted me.

And then, suddenly, all of the conversations in the room stopped. The silence was abrupt and surprising. Thirty strangers were acutely aware of this awkward silence. Thirty strangers laughed together.  "Sherman," the man from another country said to me. "In my culture, when those kind of silences happen, we say that God just passed by." "That's beautiful," I said.

The man talked about his tribe. Then he asked me more about my tribe, "Sherman," he said. "Your tribe's name, Spokane, what does it mean?" I said, "It means 'Children of the Sun.'"

At that moment, the gray summer clouds parted and a bolt of sunlight shot through a small window and illuminated me. I narrowed my eyes against the glare. But my new friend, the man from another country, looked at the light and said, "Ah, Sherman, I think your mother just arrived. It is good to meet her."

I laughed. But I wanted to sob. I did sob later that night. I have been sobbing many times a day during this book tour. I have sobbed in private and I have sobbed onstage.

(RM: If I may - from Lillian's pov it must be really frustrating. She's kicking his ass all right, getting the sun to shine in his face, getting everyone to be silent for a moment - and still, he can't listen!  I can't imagine how annoying that must be for her! But I digress.)

"I have been rebreaking my heart night after night. I have, to use recovery vocabulary, been retraumatizing myself. Last week, I fell ill with a terrible head cold and had to cancel events in Tulsa and Missoula. But I also fell ill with depression. I medicated my head cold. I quickly healed from that simple malady. But I couldn't medicate my sadness—my complicated grief.

I sobbed and sobbed, and then I got on another airplane and continued my book tour. But then, in the fifteenth or twentieth hotel room of this summer, I dreamed.

In this dream, I entered the movie, Smoke Signals, and became Victor Joseph as he ran through the night to save a woman injured in a car wreck. I ran through the desert night. I ran through fire and the memory of fire. I ran until my feet bled. I ran until dawn. I ran until I collapsed exhausted to the road.

In the movie, the collapsed Victor Joseph reaches toward a vision of his dead father. But it is a hallucination. Victor is actually reaching toward a highway construction worker.

In my dream, I am the one fallen to the road. And I reach toward a vision of my dead mother. But she is also the highway construction worker. And she is holding a sign that says STOP.

I think the meaning of that dream is obvious.

It means I am supposed to stop this book tour. Because of the short notice, I'll still perform at my gigs in San Diego, Los Angeles, and San Francisco this month. But I am cancelling all of my events in August and I will be cancelling many, but not all, of my events for the rest of the year.

Dear readers and booksellers and friends and family, I am sorry to disappoint you. I am sorry that I will not be traveling to your cities to tell you my stories in person. But I will be writing.  When I told Diane, my wife, about my mother's ghost and about my plans to cancel so many events, she said, "Maybe it's your mother taking care of you from Heaven." "Maybe," I said. "But I think it's probably your subconscious taking care of the rest of you. I think it's probably you being a good mother to yourself. You are mothering you."

So here I am—the son and the mother combined—who needs to take a big step back and do most of my grieving in private. My memoir is still out there for you to read. And, when I am strong enough, I will return to the road. I will return to the memoir. And I know I will have new stories to tell about my mother and her ghost. I will have more stories to tell about grief. And about forgiveness.

But for now, I can only apologize again for my unexpected retreat. And I thank you, over and over again, for your time, energy, and understanding."

RM: I read this note and wrote something that reflected my research in the field.

Not "heart breaking." Hilarious. When faced with continuous (consistent) nudges from the flipside it's up to us how to react. Disbelief, anger, fear, grief. Or.. amusement, joy, appreciation, gratitude. Only you know the feeling of a loved one's touch, voice or sense of humor. "Stop" can mean a lot of things in a dream. ("Stop ignoring me, denying I still exist, wallowing in memory, avoiding opening your heart." Or "Book tour.") The most direct method is to ask. Whether it's your loved one or your subconscious answering depends upon your path. Either way you miss a possible solution if you don't ask. Publicist should hire me. In an hour I'd have him talking directly to his mom and back on tour - bringing her to life for his audience. First question I'd ask him; "So why did you choose her as your mom?" And repeat it until he answers the simple yet cogent question.

Not trying to mitigate the guy's pain - but when your mom is jumping up and down on the flipside saying "hey! wake up! I'm here!" and your reaction (and I'm sure his doc's) is "well maybe you need to rest and maybe some take medication, you're depressed and in grief." 

Well, there's that - and then there's the idea that it's hard for them to reach out to us, and if we're constantly avoiding acknowledging their attempts to say hello, trying to tell us "i'm still here! I'm ok!" or to tell us "your point of view of our relationship - our journey together, is missing the element that you asked me to play this role before we even got to the planet...because you knew it would inspire you to creativity" well - that's a reframe in any language. 

Obviously she's still rattling him. Which is a good thing.

Would you take advice from this guy?

So I wrote to Sherman via his agent, via his publicist, via his FB page.

I can help you.

On one hand people fear the idea that their loved ones may still exist.

"Oh God no!  They're going to haunt me!!!"  Or worse. "They're going to stand behind me when I overindulge!"  Or worse. "Do they bother me when I'm in bed having sex?"

I had a friend the other day reveal something pretty profound.  

He's not a "believer" in the flipside, per se.  But he has had a number of unusual experiences, and has always had an open mind.

He said he was in bed with his wife, and suddenly, his father who had passed away recently seemed to show up in the room.  And my friend said "and he joined in with me.  I mean, I could feel him enter my body while I was making love to my wife."

Think of a cemetery as an old Ma Bell telephone booth.

I said "Did that freak you out?"  He said "Well, yes, but no.  I actually felt like - Dad! It's you! You want to join in with me? Okay! Sure!"

I mentioned that I had a similar experience many years ago - a close friend who was paralyzed had died, and a few days later, heard this person say "Can I join you for a walk?" and I felt myself saying "Sure."  

And this person stepped into - at least it felt like that - stepped in to my body while I was walking.  (Didn't replace me, didn't become some kind of walking dead spirit - those things don't exist, the only way another entity can show up with us is if we know them intimately, love them, and invite them to participate with us.) I heard my friend's voice in my head say "Oh thank you. It's been a long time since I had the sensation of walking. It's great."

I know how controversial this sounds.  

I certainly am not broadcasting, writing about, or talking about these events.  In fact, I share them because I know that some people will read this sentence and say "Okay, that's it, I'm out of here!"  Which is okay too.  

Anyone who knows me or my work knows that I'm trying to get to a deeper truth, a higher reality.  To examine and explore the nature of reality in all its forms and all its foibles.

So I said to my friend "Did he ask permission first? And did you grant it?" He said "I didn't think about it, but when you asked the question I realized there was a split second when I said "Sure!"

Divine Light in St. Pete's? Or an afternoon in Roma?

It's a little bit like Dracula or any old vampire showing up at your door.  They have to be invited in (or so said Bram Stoker in his original novel.)  Can't come in unless you're invited.  You can say "No! That's freaky! That would freak me out!"  But if it's a loved one - why not?  They've got plenty of other things to do than hang around and watch you all day.

Which takes me back to the point of this post.

What's it like for your loved ones to reach out to you?

Well, they say (and this is based on my interviews with people under hypnosis, interviews with mediums who I believe are connected and speaking to people on the flipside) that for them - it's a process to reach out to you.

Whether in a dream, whether through sound, whether through a visual - whatever sense that they feel they can reach you.

Light at the end of the tunnel... or my kids playing.

So when I ask "Have you been visited by your loved one since they passed?" I'm asking "dream" or "smell" or "vision" or "touch" or "sensation" or a "feeling."  Having them "step into your body while you're in it" is a bit extreme - but I mention it because it appears to be something that's possible to do.

Again - no one has entities shows up willy nilly, after a couple of cocktails and take over our bodies turning us into zombies.  It's just not in the research.  What is in the research is that people have loved ones who show up - they might be loved ones from a previous lifetime, they may be old chums that you haven't seen in this life but they show up to hang out with you - in the previous post I mention the fellow from 1861 - Will Collins - who shows up to hang out with his brother.

Will Collins is already reincarnated and living in Spain as a person that this medium is going to run into in the future (or so he said.)  But some part of Will Collins - after all, we don't use all of our energy while here on the planet, only about a third, so that leaves plenty of other energy from the original Will Collins to perform other amazing feats, like showing up in his brother's room at the age of 8.  (It's possible that Will Collins wasn't incarnated when his brother in this life was seeing him at the age of 8 - I'm just illustrating my point.)

What is my point?

That its hard for them to reach out to us.

That when we're stressed they can't really get us to focus our energy.

That when we're angry, grieving, crying, upset, it's hard for them to reach out to us.

Am I in the mirror or in the restaurant?  Both.

But in Sherman's case - he actually saw his mother with a "STOP' sign.

It could mean she was saying "stop the book tour."

But it could mean she was saying "Stop! Look! Listen! I'm here! I'm still alive! I'm trying to reach out to you Sherman! I'm trying to say hello!  You're doing everything to avoid talking to me!!!"

Which is understandable - as Sherman points out, he's stated that he didn't get along with her for a variety of reasons in this lifetime.

But what he doesn't see, or hasn't seen yet consciously, was the life planning session when he decided that she would play the role of his angry difficult mom - because, well, he asked her to.  He asked her to be the difficult mom so that he could use that grit, that sand in the oyster, to create the pearl that is his art.

I'm not suggesting this is the case.  I'm reporting this is the case.  I've examined hundreds of cases just like it - where we think the biggest stone in our path is insurmountable, until it isn't - and we realize it was the diamond in our life.

Be the diamond in someone else's life.

Just let go.

Just open your heart.

My two cents for you Sherman. The Shaman.