Tuesday

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.

Sunday

Ghosts Are Not Ghosts and other Flipside Observations

Time to stop calling them "ghosts." "No such thing as ghosts" is accurate. 



They're only "people no longer here." I've cataloged many cases of "ghosts" giving new information; details, facts only they know, have seen or observed - often after they left. My books "Hacking the Afterlife" and "It's a Wonderful Afterlife" include verifiable cases.


In Dr Bruce Greyson's interview (psychiatrist, UVA, DOPS) in "It's a Wonderful Afterlife" he argues these end of life events occur because the atrophied brain is no longer blocking access to higher consciousness or virtual memory. He cites cases where Alzheimers patients regain full memory prior to passing yet autopsies show their brains could not function as they have. As if the "partitions" had ceased functioning and a person regains memory for a brief time.




Dr. Greyson's amended talk is also in "It's a Wonderful Afterlife"


These are not ghosts. These are loved ones who can supersede the false curtain we live with on a daily basis. People who are no longer playing our virtual game, yet have stopped by to help a loved one step off stage.

This author should freak out. Everything he's been told is inaccurate. Bodies die; people do not.


(Michael Woloschinow for The Washington Post)

"At the end of her life, my mother started seeing ghosts, and it freaked me out"

by Steven Petrow

"Last summer, six months before my mother died, I walked into her bedroom, and she greeted me with a tinny hello and a big smile. She then resumed a conversation with her mother — who had died in 1973. “Where are you?” Mom asked, as though Grandma, a onetime Fifth Avenue milliner, was on one of her many European hat-buying junkets. As I stood there dumbstruck, Mom continued chatting — in a young girl’s voice, no less — for several more minutes. Was this a reaction to medication, a sign of advancing dementia? Or was she preparing to “transition” to wherever she was going next?

Regardless, Mom was freaking me out — as well as my brother, sister and father.

As it turned out, my mother’s chat with a ghost was a signal that the end was inching closer. Those who work with the terminally ill, such as social workers and hospice caregivers, call these episodes or visions a manifestation of what is called Nearing Death Awareness.

“They are very common among dying patients in hospice situations,” Rebecca Valla, a psychiatrist in Winston-Salem, N.C., who specializes in treating terminally ill patients, wrote in an email. “Those who are dying and seem to be in and out of this world and the ‘next’ one often find their deceased loved ones present, and they communicate with them. In many cases, the predeceased loved ones seem [to the dying person] to be aiding them in their ‘transition’ to the next world.”

While family members are often clueless about this phenomenon, at least at the outset, a small 2014 study of hospice patients concluded that “most participants” reported such visions and that as these people “approached death, comforting dreams/visions of the deceased became more prevalent.”



 The author’s grandmother, Marjorie Straus, with his mother, Margot Petrow, left, and his aunt Ann Youngwood. (COURTESY OF SUSAN YOUNGWOOD )


Jim May, a licensed clinical social worker in Durham, N.C., said that family members — and patients themselves — are frequently surprised by these deathbed visitors, often asking him to help them understand what is happening. “I really try to encourage people, whether it’s a near-death experience or a hallucination, to just go with the flow,” May explained after I told him about my mom’s visitations. “Whatever they are experiencing is real to them.”

Valla agreed, telling me what not to do: “Minimize, dismiss or, worse, pathologize these accounts, which is harmful and can be traumatic” to the dying person. In fact, May said, “most patients find the conversations to be comforting.”

(RM: Especially because... they're real!  For example - examine what were Steven Jobs last words? "Oh wow. Oh wow! Oh wow!!!" Not exactly something that was "comforting" for a last person to see or say, but echoes what others say as they enter the flipside: amazing, brilliant, fantastic. (I have a chapter in Flipside - "Are Last Words the First Words in the Afterlife?")

"That certainly appeared to be the case with my mother, who had happy exchanges with several good friends, who, like my grandmother, were no longer living.

In a moving 2015 TED talk, Christopher Kerr, the chief medical officer at the Center for Hospice and Palliative Care in Buffalo, showed a clip of one his terminally ill patients discussing her deathbed visions, which included her saying, “My mom and dad, my uncle, everybody I knew that was dead was there [by my side]. I remember seeing every piece of their face.” She was lucid and present.

Since Mom had already been diagnosed with advanced dementia, I originally thought her talks were a sign of worsening illness. In fact, current research posits that a combination of physiological, pharmacological and psychological explanations may be at play. That’s exactly what May’s hands-on experience of more than 14 years revealed to him, too.

(RM: If you watch the clip above, Dr. Greyson explains that despite an atrophied brain due to Alzheimer's - or perhaps as a result of it - people in 70% of the cases in the UK were able to regain their memories just prior to passing.  Fully. As if the barriers had come down so that they could say goodbye. Later, autopsies showed they should not have been able to communicate, let alone remember their lifetime.)

May acknowledged that it’s understandably “hard to have empirical evidence” for such episodes in patients, but that it’s important for family members and health professionals to figure out how to respond.

(RM: "Empirical evidence" may be difficult, but "eyewitness reports" are not.  There are thousands upon thousands. If people consistently say the same things - whether during a near death event, while under deep hypnosis, or in hospice care about the afterlife, isn't that worth examining? People at the end of life don't claim to see martians, aliens, Barney, Big Bird or other imaginary creatures (for the most part) but consistently claim to communicate with loved ones,  hear messages from loved ones or people they don't recognize but somehow have known forever. "That little man in the doorway is beckoning me."  They may not recognize them here - in this lifetime - but they do once they go "home" - as every case I've filmed describes the place we go after we are here.)

Last fall, another visit to Mom raised the stakes. As before, she greeted me by name and spoke coherently for several minutes before she turned to the bookcase near her bed and began cooing to an imagined baby. I watched in astonishment as Mom gitchi-gitchi-goo-ed to an apparition she referred to as “her” baby.

“My baby is very sick,” she repeated, clearly deeply concerned about this apparition. “She’s very thirsty. She’s hungry. She’s crying. Can’t you do anything for her?”

I didn’t know what to do. Neither did my siblings or Dad. I had long stopped “correcting” Mom. A year earlier, Mom had regaled me with the story that my niece Anna had made a delicious dinner the night before and was at that very moment out doing errands. In fact, Anna was away at college; also, I’ve never seen her cook, and she doesn’t even have a driver’s license. But why contradict Mom’s vision of a perfect granddaughter?

(RM: I've found in my research the opposite is effective.  To ask questions. To actually listen to what they're saying. Just because you can't see what they're seeing doesn't mean what they're seeing isn't there. (Ask Ray Charles).  But if you ask simple questions - "Who is this baby?  Is he or she a friend of yours? It's it someone you know from here in the hospital? Or is this someone you used to know?"  By asking simple direct question, you'll be surprised - perhaps "freaked out" by the answers.  If you actually care to listen to the person who raised you - actually listen to them and not assume they're crazy or nuts - you actually might learn something new from them.  I've been asking these questions for years and get some pretty amazing answers.  It doesn't hurt to ask)

Social worker May, when asked about these sorts of imaginings, put it this way: “Don’t argue, because an argument is not what they need.” I decided to go along with the “baby” story and told Mom I was going to take the baby to the kitchen to bottle-feed her, which alleviated the crisis.

As the fall days grew shorter, Mom’s “baby” was a continuing presence at my visits, with my mother becoming increasingly distressed. I would settle things down by giving the imagined infant an imaginary bottle, or cradle her in my arms and leave the room for a while, saying I was taking her to the doctor. At one point I asked gently, “Mom, do you think the baby is you?” She didn’t miss a beat. “Yes,” she replied. “The baby is hurting.”

(RM: Fantastic! A question asked and answered.  "Is the baby you?"  First you need to clarify what that means.  "How could the baby be her?"  Well, if you examine the research, the reports (Dr. Helen Wambach, Michael Newton's books) claim that only about a third of our energy is here while we're incarnated.  Two thirds is always "home" or "back there" -- where we "return." 

So seeing a child that is hurting - which she may actually be seeing, or may be referring to herself, not a scrambled idea, or a mixed message if you've actually examined other reports of people who say something quite similar. He asked "Are you the baby?" She answered "Yes."  She answered the question as to what she was experiencing or seeing. The next question is - "How can that be? Or is there anything you want to tell that baby that is you?"  If you follow my logic, there is no question that is wrong when it comes to talking to the flipside, or those people with a foot in both realms.)

In fact, the largest study to date on deathbed visions reported on numerous cases when the “arrival of . . . a visitor appeared to arouse anxiety and intensify death fear.”

(RM:  Really? That's the best they can come up with? How about the "arrival of a visitor" was "followed up by a series of questions. "Who are you? Why are you here? What's your role in this person's life or spiritual evolvement? Is there anything that you want to impart to this person or to those around them? How can you help them in this transition?"  No one is going to be fired for asking the questions. But the answers may yield helpful and/or calming results. And what's the harm in doing that?)

But what to do? I hated that Mom’s level of distress was skyrocketing in what turned out to be her final weeks. I simply held Mom’s hands a bit tighter and tried to distract her as best I could with family and political news. Oh, and I cooked, which she loved my doing.

One evening I made a simple dinner: spaghetti with a store-bought marinara sauce and a bright green leafy salad. Mom had pretty much stopped eating by this point, which is common as the end draws near, but she made a show of trying her best with this repast for the two of us, plus my father. It was heartbreaking to watch her try to spear the pasta, but she managed several hearty mouthfuls, saving room for a scoop of Sealtest vanilla ice cream.

After dinner, I helped her back to bed, where she exclaimed: “How did you know?” “How did I know what?” I asked. “That was exactly how I wanted my funeral to be. You invited all my favorite people, and the food was just what I would have ordered.”


She was beaming. Six weeks later, she passed — and pasta and salad were on the menu at her service.

(RM: I would argue that she was describing her own funeral service with her favorite people - which includes her husband and her son, (and of course all those on the flipside waiting for her, including her mom) and the food she loved the best.  I know that on my pal Luana Ander's last day on the planet, she asked me to bring her a tuna sandwich from "Ocean Seafood" in Santa Monica. Her favorite. 

I didn't know where it was, had never seen the sandwich, and could not find it pre-smart phone days. I brought her a sandwich from a nearby deli. The look of disappointment on her face remains; I had failed in the one simple last meal request she had. (I was able to connect her to her best friends however, the Coppolas called in from Turkey on a satellite phone, Robert Towne, Charles Grodin and Jack Nicholson called to say their goodbyes, so I was happy about that) After she passed, I made a point of stopping by to eat that same damned tuna sandwich - which I finally found, and still regret not bringing her.  At least the author Steve Petrow got to serve his mom her favorite last meal.)

Steven Petrow, the author of “Steven Petrow’s Complete Gay & Lesbian Manners,” addresses questions about LGBT and straight etiquette in his column, Civilities.  Follow @StevenPetrow

(RM: My only desire in using this wonderful story of Steven Petrow's on my blog is not to chastise the medical community for not understanding or examining the flipside, or make light of a loved one's passing. 

Anyone who's read my work knows the depth of emotion I associate with anyone's passing. I've experienced it profoundly myself, as has everyone reading this post. 

In my case, readers know that "Flipside" the film and book came out of my friend Luana Anders returning to visit me in dramatic fashion after her passing, in such a visual and profound way, that it put me on the path of trying to discover if it was my imagination or - if it was accurate, how could I go and visit her?  I've done so, at least five times since beginning this journey.  

I've been researching the topic for 20 some years, I'm a filmmaker and an author, and have written extensively, and have many book talks on youtube (MartiniProds) and speak often on Coast to Coast radio.  
With Coast to Coast's George Noory
at a recent public appearance

My point of this post is to show that there is ample evidence to back up precisely what his mother was experiencing. That it's not merely a story of ghosts, or a "ghost story" or some other pejorative people use for consciousness - but an example of what's really happening just outside of our perception. 

We only need to reach out to understand it better.)

And some testimony from a Hospice Chaplain:


Here's Hospice Chaplain Savarna Wiley talking about the same phenomena, as well as her journey to becoming a hypnotherapist in her 2013 talk at the Afterlife Convention in Santa Monica:






So Steven Petrow;  I've got some good news for you.

Your grandmother was visiting your mother.

And your mother is with her now - and both are keeping an eye on you.

How do I know that?  

It's in the research.  It's not my opinion, belief or philosophy.  I've examined 10,000 cases of people talking to loved ones under deep hypnosis, as well as filming 40 of them, and doing 5 myself.

I've interview mediums, scientists, doctors, psychiatrists and others - to get to the bottom of why this might be. I've published those findings in "Flipside" "It's a Wonderful Afterlife" and "Hacking the Afterlife."  

Transcripts, eyewitness accounts that confirm precisely what your dear mother was telling you.

And is trying to tell you still.

You just need to open up your awareness a bit to hear her.  

If you need help doing so, contact me at @martinizone on twitter, richardmartini (at) gmail, or find a Michael Newton trained hypnotherapist near you (searchable at their website), see for yourself if you can or cannot continue the conversation with dear mom.  Bon voyage! (and bon appetito!)


Saturday

Happy Mirth Day - Robin Williams Birthday

I nominate July 21st as "Mirth Day" in honor of the birthday of Mr. Mirth himself Robin Williams.


Happy Mirth Day Robin!!!!

For those who have had a chance to read "Hacking the Afterlife" you know that he made a couple of appearances in the writing of this book.

I was at the Premiere of the film "The Giver" when Jeff Bridges was told on his way to the red carpet that Robin had died.  I was sitting in the movie theater in Manhattan, and overheard someone behind me say "Mrs. Doubtfire died."

Jeff gave a moving and tearful tribute to his friend. (both at the premiere and later at a press conference)

Later that evening, as we approached the after party at the Tavern on the Green, "Radioman" appeared outside the venue.  (I had met him on the film "Salt" - he's a legend in Manhattan film circles, as he shows up on his bicycle, carrying a radio, and parks it to see stars come and go from the set.)

But Radioman is a doppelganger - kinda like a twin - of Robin Williams.
RadioMan and the original RadioMan

So it was startling to see Radioman on the way into this event.  Because he looks like Robin in an odd way. And if you saw the great film that Jeff and Robin did together - The Fisher King - it was as if Robin was channeling Radioman while playing his part. 

Robin channeling his inner RadioMan

So it felt - for all intents and purposes - as if Robin was in the house for that premiere, and at the after party as well.

Then a day or so later, I was in a post office on the upper west side of the city, and was in a long line of unhappy people.  When I finally got to the front of the line, this woman behind the counter looked immensely sad.  I sad "Are you okay?"

She looked up at me.  "I can't get over Robin William's passing."  


Sometimes I find myself in the oddest places, hearing the oddest sentences, and have this zing in the back of my neck that feels like I'm meant to be standing in this very place at this very time.

I said "Well, I'm a filmmaker, I met Robin, know some of his friends, and have been making a documentary about what people say under deep hypnosis.  And they say consistently, no matter what their background or gender that we don't die. That we live on.  That our spirits continue on, and that we are fully accessible to our loved ones whenever they think of us.  So consider that for a moment - that the laughter that Robin gave you still exists, and you can access it and him at any time if you just focus on him."

The look on her face was priceless. She froze for a full ten seconds. It was as if I was speaking directly to her soul.  She looked in my eyes as if seeing a human being for the first time.  She said "Thank you for telling me that. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that today."  She took off her glove from her mailroom hands and shook mine.

I said "You're welcome, but it's not me saying that for your benefit.  It's likely coming to me from someone you love, or perhaps Robin himself."

So when I finished my book "Hacking the Afterlife" it was already over 600 pages.  I started chopping and slicing out chapters, stories.  I tried hard to stay with what had to be in the book - and even then it's really long.  But the story about Robin had to go.  After all, it was more about me than about him.

And then while I was interviewing medium Jennifer Shaffer, she suddenly announced "Robin Williams is here."  I thought - "Oh, she must have heard from one of her clients about him, or was thinking about him."  I said "That's nice.  Why is he here?" (That's my standard question to Jennifer.)
Did you know him? (She generally runs into people that are related to the people she's talking to, or sometimes people she's met.)


She said "No, he's here because of you. Did you know him?"

I thought about it. "Charles Grodin too me to a dinner at Gore Vidal's house; it was Penny Marshall's infamous birthday party with Carrie Fisher.  I sat at the same table as Robin, he was quiet and extremely polite.  Later I wished I had engaged him more, we both took classes at the Harvey Lembeck workshop - his appearances are still legendary.  I spent time lunching with his pal Jonathan Winters over a movie role - those lunches and his stories were epic.... but not really, no." (How's that for a sentence full of name drops?")

She said "He's here to talk to you... something about a chapter in your book.  There's a chapter missing in your book. He wants to know why you took him out of your book?"

Well knock me over with a feather.

I wracked my brain - had I said something to Jennifer about cutting him out of my book? Had I blabbed about it on a post on Facebook? Had I...had I...... at some point you just have to stop asking and start listening. No, I'd never mentioned that my book was too long and had cut him out of it. And yes, he showed up a number of times after that one as well.

I said "Oh. Sorry. Okay, I'll put it back in." 


So in honor of his birthday, here is the amended chapter that is in the book "Hacking the Afterlife."

“Let’s nominate July 21st, Robin Williams' birthday as “Mirth Day.”

"I don't have a candy company, or a card company, it just popped into my head on his birthday. “HAPPY MIRTH DAY.” It's a day where you try to make people laugh, and you get credit for doing so. You don't have to make merry, make out, but you do have to make mirth.

David Letterman ran a tribute to Robin after his passing, where Robin was shown throwing his head back, roaring like a lion with laughter. David had said something that allowed him to release that laugh which included a kick back of the head, chin pointed skyward, his legs stretched out - literally roaring. 

I urge everyone to take Robin's death not as an example of someone who is depressed who did themselves in, but as someone who gave us something to learn from. Because he's not dead. He's just not here.

Suicide is a tricky subject. I can only weigh in on the Flipside research. We all choose to come to the planet to learn and teach lessons; we are not here by mistake or happenstance. Each has their own path and journey, each has a myriad of reasons how they choose to experience the journey here or for exiting the stage. 

Once we wrap our minds around the fact that we don't die, or in this case can't die, then the matter of our leaving the stage is one of logistics. Do we judge an entire life or performance on how an actor leaves the stage? 

"Yes, I loved the play, the first and second act were great,but you tripped as you came off stage and that I cannot forgive. Two thumbs way down."

We tend to write reviews on how an actor exits: "A belt, a plastic bag, a box of pills" and ignore those who are checking themselves out with each cigarette, each shot of whisky, each time they drink and drive and/or text. 

Are they any less "guilty" of choosing the manner of their death than others just because it happens to be a slow lingering exit? We applaud those who managed to stay on stage until the last breath, surrounded by loved ones and wag our fingers at deaths we don't applaud, whether Robin or a child in a wedding party taken out by a drone.

We've all got a myriad of exits and entrances behind us, and ahead of us - suffice to say it’s up to us how we manage them. Again, the research shows that we don't die. That each life is a sacred, precious choice, that we come here to learn and teach and love for many reasons, and the manner of our passing has roots in our own path and journey. 

Robin is ok, he's fine, he hasn't gone anywhere - he's just not here or visible to us. And that's a damned shame because he lit up the stage, made the entire planet stand laugh, and there's nothing more healing than laughter...."



When I finished writing "Hacking the Afterlife" I thought "Who can I send this out to for a foreword?"  Gary Schwartz PhD offered to write the foreword to "Flipside: A Tourist's Guide on How to Navigate the Afterlife" - my pal Charles Grodin (who introduced me to Robin) wrote the foreword to "It's a Wonderful Afterlife" volume one (Galen Stoller, a young man who has crossed over, wrote the foreword to volume two from his place "over there.")  

But when it came to sending the book around to people, I had this funny idea:  "Why not ask the people who appear in the book for book quotes about the book?"

I had no idea if that was possible to do.  But the idea made me laugh.  I sat down and wrote out a list of all the people who appeared in the book via different interviews; Edgar Cayce, Prince, Amelia Earhart, etc... and Robin Williams.

I know how crazy this sentence sounds.

But if you've read my books, you'll know how logical this idea is.  

"Why not?"  If it's true that people are still accessible on the flipside, perhaps they have an opinion about the work.

And I was fully prepared to write whatever they said when asked "do you have a quote for my book?"  They could have said "no," or "don't be ridiculous, I can't read your book from over here" or whatever else they might say.  I sent a list off to Jennifer Shaffer, and she took each name, sat down and "honed in" (as she does in her work for criminal justice cases across the United States) and asked them that question.

With Jennifer Shaffer and George Noory
Coast to Coast AM radio
"Do you have a quote for Richard's book?"

Since Prince and Robin Williams appear in the book, they’re naturals to ask if they have a quote for the book. Jennifer sends me a file where she asks on her cellphone; “Is there anything Prince can say about why people should or should not should read this book?” “He says “They should read it if they want to fly.” (Jennifer laughs and asks “To the moon?”) She says “Robin Williams came in and said “That’s mine!”

(The other quotes are in the book itself. But this is the one that she said from Robin Williams and its reprinted here verbatim.)

Robin Williams

Jennifer: I first want to say happy birthday to you, Robin (It’s his birthday as we write this.) Do you have a quote for Richard’s book, a direct message to your fans and friends?

“I have only two words; “Love… Love.” 

Jennifer asks, “Love all?” 

“No, love Love.” He says “That’s the key ingredients for happiness; love the love. Find that. In everything that you are. 

Whether you are in hell (metaphorically speaking) or in your prison cell, (physically speaking); find the truth. Love is God’s connectedness, love is God, it’s every single one of us, even if we can’t hear it. 

Love… Love. And then send it to everything. 

(An aside from Jennifer, who gasps) Oh my gosh, the sun just came through my window, my heart’s pounding.  I said "Is that it, Robin?" 

He says “No; that’s everything.” 

"Wow that makes me want to cry. Thank you."

He says “Tell Rich I’m here for him. He says tell him that I’ll surprise him.” 

She asks "When?" 

"He’s going to visit this person, he’s going to visit this person and then this person is going to come to you; that’s how you’ll know. 

He just winked. 

He says “Tell Rich it’s exciting: the matrix, the connections, God…” -- it was so interesting when he said that -- and now he says “nanu nanu,” and just did like a little thing on his head, over and out. 

(He said) “Until now.” (A play on the parting line “Until then…”) “It’s Over and yonder.”

(A pause. Jennifer continues:) Robin showed me a record. 

“The record is your lifetimes. Playing over and over and then sometimes we scratch the record and then we have to get a new record.” 

He’s showing me how in this lifetime he scratched it and he left, and (then) you come back as like a CD or a Walkman. And then we end up all virtual. 

(RM note: I think he means at the end of all of our lifetimes. Each lifetime is like a variation on a theme, like music on cylinder, on vinyl, on digital – variations on each them we choose as our lifetime, and eventually we become that recording in a virtual way.) 

"The music keeps going, our souls keep going, that was such a great thing he just gave me – we’re all records, sometimes we scratch, sometimes we get broken, eventually we just live on to more instruments more human bodies..." 

"I love the way he shows me the Walkman, the cd player, then we go virtual… for millions of people."

And you are that right now, Rich - you’re now the virtual .. you’re not the record player anymore, or the record, you’re now in the virtual, you’ve made it, and you’re sending it to everybody else. I commend your thoughts and love who you are and thank you and love to both of you.” 

He showed me a pebble of some sort, he showed me a rock: “He’ll know what that means.” 

"Something with rocks" Jennifer says.

"All right, bye." 

(RM: Note - I have a collection of rocks from around the world – world’s cheapest souvenir, but reminds me instantly where I found it. I have one on my desk and my eye went straight for it.)

Here it is. The rock on my desk. I held it up and listened carefully...and this is what came to mind:

"Rock on!!!"

Rocky Rockoon


Monday

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.

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