Getting Back to Zero

Sometimes life can feel like such a challenge. Trying to make enough money in a high inflation/high unemployment economy, keeping up with all the things you have to get done, navigating partner issues, aging parents concerns, or being broadsided by a new disturbing health issue. And if, for the moment, you have all these areas under control, there's always global warming, war in Afghanistan, corporate control of the government and a banking system that's run off with everyone's retirement funds. Add to this those nagging existential questions like: Am I making the best of my life? Am I achieving my life's purpose? Have I made a difference? It's a recipe for despair.

What to do? Escape into a movie, a Jane Austin novel, a computer game? Unfortunately, such refuge is short lived. Once the book is shut or credits roll the demons of worry are back at their post.

A friend of mine who had been away on spiritual retreat for two weeks, complained that his blissful equanimity wore off in a matter of days. How can we get back to that delicious peacefulness? How can it be sustained over time? How can we be more like those spiritual masters we read about in books -- accepting of whatever comes along? How do we get back to ZERO? Nothingness. Empty. The void. Spiritual bliss. The fool in the tarot deck blithely walking off the cliff confident in the protection of the universe.

It can feel like two separate realities vying for our attention: the reality of everyday concerns as described above, and the reality of the spirit. The reality of the spirit, open-heart, aware, compassionate, content. The spirit tells us that all is as it should be. Whatever happens it will be alright. Trust yourself, trust life. but watch out for the ego. It is the ego or rather the negative self, nafs -- as my Sufi teacher calls it, that puts a negative mental twist on all our physical experience and creates the suffering and fear. It's a matter of where you put your mind, how you interpret things.

Ok, when I am in my higher self, when I'm just back from three weeks at Sufi camp, that all makes sense.  But what about now? This moment?

Ahh! NOW. Eckhart Tolle would tells us that "NOW" is the answer. Enter the now, the present moment and suffering ceases. No past or future to concern us, only the delicious tranquility and detachment of moment to moment. In the moment, I am fed, warm, comfortable, the sun is shining, the fragrance of lemon blossoms wafts on the breeze. I am writing with ease.

Alright, this moment works, but have you ever tried to get into the moment, to meditate, to shift your mind in the midst of a mental tirade? It is amazing how violent and tenacious emotions can be. I have fought with my mind, tried to stop its awful thought loops hoping to shift into the NOW. Trying and fighting are, I assure you, not the answer. They only make the demons, the nafs, bigger.

Through much trial and error, I have found a few tools that can help me out of this situation. First, it is important to remember that spirituality is a process not a state. Like an airplane heading for it's destination, we are always making adjustments to get back on course. So don't waste any time beating yourself up for not being in the NOW, now.

Second, spiritual beings though we may be, we inhabit physical bodies which have their own needs, programing, energy fields and chemistry. Bliss is a whole lot easier when you are feeding your body good food. It is no accident that at my Sufi summer camp we eat very plain, simple foods -- lots of rice and vegetable and very little at that. Not eating, i.e. fasting, can really bliss you out, if you can get past the first days of hunger. There is lot of debates out there about the list of "good foods." Certainly don't believe the advertising hype of packaged food giants. Michael Pollan's book, In Defense of Food, as an excellent place to get some perspective on the food issue.

I actually eat a very wholesome diet -- all organic, no red meat, a lot of fruit and vegetable, super blue green algae smoothies. However, I also indulge in treats and that is my downfall. Chocolate is particularly dangerous for me as are most refined sugars. They both make me more emotional, more prone to impatience, frustration and meltdowns. Astrologically, I'm already wired with a short fuse, i.e. Scorpio rising. Sugar and chocolate are like playing with matches. I've been off chocolate lately and it helps. Sugar is another story, hence the need for the rest of these strategies.

While you're working on your diet, no easy assignment if you have been programed like most of us to go for the worst foods when under stress, you could try out some other body-directed strategies. I find talking a nice walk in nature very helpful to the stressed mind. A forest trail with minimal traffic sounds works best. Beaches with their sound cancelling surf are also excellent. But when I only have a short window of time, a park or neighborhood with lovely gardens will do. Cemeteries are also amazingly serene.

When you don't have much time, which for most of us is a chronic issue, deep, conscious breathing can bring quick results. Focus on the breath going through all the various organs or chakras of your body. Feel the sensation of the breath in you lungs. Imagine it coming in through your head and flowing out through your feet. If your mind wanders, try holding your breath for several counts between inhales and exhales. Lack of oxygen really focuses the mind.

If I am dealing with a particularly persistent mental loop or my emotions are all over the map, I find that stimulating the middle of my forehead just above the brow can work wonders. Perhaps this works because it is just in front of the cerebrum, the part of the brain that handles thought and action. By stimulating this area, I imagine that I am pulling my attention away from the brain stem, the place that is activated by survival and fear. Look at my blog, Happiness in the Brain for a brief description of the three brain areas and how they involve different aspects of our life.

The following techniques are all excellent for shifting a negative mind loop. They are not just about stimulating the forehead, but it's there:

    1.    Pranayama, specifically Nadi Sodhana: A yoga breath practice of alternate nostril breathing. Essentially, you hold both sides of your nose with the thumb and ring finger to alternate breathing through one nostril and then the other. The pointer finger and middle finger are curled into your palm with knuckles press into brow and lower forehead. The sensation of these two finger touching at the spot of the third eye, together with the periodic lack of breath from the alternate breathing help to stop thoughts and bringing attention into the moment.

    2.    TAT: is an energy therapy. Here the thumb and ring finger are placed at the inner corners of the eyes and the pointer finger touches the middle of the forehead. At the same time the other hand is holding the back of the head right at the brain stem. Perhaps it is transferring the energy of the higher mind to the lower. This technique includes some very useful thought repetitions, in addition to the physical stimulation, that are very effective in transforming negative thoughts.

    3.    The Healing Code Book technique. I must confess, I never read the book. A friend who did read the book shared the hand sequences with me. They blew my mind. Literally. Instant empty. A flash trip to Sufi camp. I have added my own positive mental reprogramming with each gesture. You can try them out or get the book for the original instructions. Here's my version:

• Cup both your hands so all the fingers are together and pointing forward.

1. Point both of your cupped hands at the middle of your forehead about 1-2 inches away.  Feel the energy coming off your fingers. Feel it in your head. Transform any negative thoughts into positive ones, e.g. I don't know how I can keep living like this. Into "Each day I have the strength I need  and each day that strength grows stronger.
2. Hold your hands over your heart with fingers just touching your sternal notch (throat). Feel the warmth of your hands on your chest. Imagine all the love in the universe, all the love you have ever received from parents, friends and lovers, all the love of your ancestors from deep into the past coming into your heart.
3. Point your cupped hands on either side of your jaw about 2-3 inches away and a little behind the hinge of your jaw. Feel the energy coming from you hands into your jaw. Imagine all the negative thoughts and judgments being sucked out of your mouth by you hands. Allow your jaw to relax. Imagine all thoughts melting in your mouth until there are no more thoughts.
4.  Point your cupped hands on either side of you temples, just 1 inch behind. Feel the energy coming into your head from your finger tips. Imagine that your fingers are filling your head with soft, gentle, expansive bliss. And this bliss crowds out all thoughts, all concerns, all sadness. There is only this soft, comfy blanket of bliss.

• Do the whole sequence three times if possible. Stay as long as you need in each phase of the cycle.

Feeling any better?


Additional strategies for getting to Zero: listening to soothing music, meditating, chanting, reading spiritual books, and writing blogs about spiritual matters. Ahhhhh.

A Waking Dream

VGA Dragon Bares Its Teeth

Two weeks ago I had what can best be described as a waking dream. A nightmare actually. The sort of a dream where you are trying to get somewhere really quickly only instead you inch along in slow motion and everything goes wrong. That was me trying to get to a screening presentation I was doing at, surprise, surprise -- The Dream Institute.

Traffic that evening was from my worst memories of the East coast. Waiting through multiple red light at each intersection. Cars lined up fifteen deep at stop signs. Time flying, my car crawling. I kept on telling myself it would be alright, I had enough time. I was in my husband's white van -- a big automatic that moves slowly. You can't rush it. You have to surrender to its own polar bear calm.

Arriving at the Dream Institute, I see to my dismay that there is no parking. (Notice the tense change, we have now entered dreamtime) I have two large speakers to tote inside, so I drive around the block. My calm is disintegrating and panic creeping in as I wait through another forever red light. With a "fuck the world" attitude, I pull my van in front of a driveway.

Low and behold, I recognize the person in the car parked in front of me. In MY PARKING SPACE! I think uncharitably. Then I see that he is with a friend in a wheelchair. They appear to be sharing some of my nightmare. They have come early to get set up, but the director has shooed them out. The woman in the wheelchair is indignant at the rude treatment she received and they are about to leave. I put on a welcoming smile and reassure them, with less equanimity than I feel, not to worry, the director will soon be gone and it will only be me. It will be good. We enter the building together. I start to calm. I'm here.

Inside is pandemonium. People rushing around leaving from a meeting poorly timed to end just as I arrive. The director is, indeed, not very welcoming. She reminds me that she knows nothing about the technology and that I am on my own. I have talked to Richard earlier in the week, who is familiar with the equipment. I'm ready. The wiring to the speakers is a bit of a challenge, not long enough, few outlets, but my friends are helping and we are moving efficiently. Opps, too far from the screen, move everything closer, shift all the wires. It's ok, we're almost there. I pop the DVD into the computer and … and … nothing. No signal. We push buttons, reboot the computer. Still nothing. Maybe the projector doesn't like the Mac.

It is close to starting time. My hands are sweating and my voice is getting strained. We swap my Mac for the Institute's PC. Still no go. We read the directions again. We push buttons. We reboot. Nothing! People are gathering outside. The panic is creeping in again. The director suggests getting one of the guys at Radio Shack next door to help. We are still fussing when he arrives. Oh I see your problem, the cord to the projector was in the output rather than the input. I curse under my breath. Of course, the one thing the Dream Institute was responsible for! I should have come by earlier in the week and tested this stuff. We see the computer screen and cheer. The man leave.

Wait! Oh no! We've been deceived! Just the laptop screen, no icons, no program access! The sand is flowing swiftly to the bottom of the hour-glass. People are being let in. Lot's of people. Crowding the room. Making it very hot. The Radio Shack person is sent for. He returns, does some magic and the DVD pops on to the screen. The film is going. We begin, 30 minutes late, no introduction, no prolog. Just jump on the moving train and go.

I am just starting to relax a little when someone starts banging at the front door which is now blocked by people in the audience. I go to let her in the back door. Why is she so late? In the meantime, the computer goes dead. I want to get hysterical but I can't. I have to be professional. Oh, the cord has been pulled. I reattach the plug, reboot the computer and restart the DVD. No sound. Ah, speaker wire came out. Reattach the speaker. I fuss with the start point and we are off again. I sit on the floor next to the equipment guarding the wires, barely breathing, trying to hold it all together by sheer force of will.

The movie is beautiful, transcendent, instructive. Appointment with the Wise Old Dog -- about a man, David Blum, with amazing dreams that provide him with guidance and reassurance while he is dying of cancer. He has made color drawing of his dreams, vivid, child-like, archetypal. They hang around his bedroom, looking over him, giving comfort. The vision they reveal of life and afterlife are profound and thought-provoking. My panic subsides as I slip into the dreamworld of this lovely movie.

The film ends. I get up and, in a voice more together than I feel, I ask the viewers to consider the meaning the movie has for them, how it relates to their own dreams in times of crises and to discuss it with the person next to them. The room fills with enthusiastic chatter as I gather myself together and put away the techno demons. I breathe deep and slow, trying to regain my presence.

Even though the technological issues are over, my waking dream is not. When I call the group together, no one wants to talk. It is like pulling teeth. A stand-up comic's nightmare. No one laughs, no one gives an inch. A few kind souls share their stories and I am pathetically grateful. How can that be? This is such interesting stuff. I can't hold the space, I can't bring them together. I answer questions and do a lot of talking. The evening grinds to an end.

The next morning, I get it. At first, of course, I am devastated. What a bomb! I really blew, etc. The usual negative-self litany. Then it dawns on me, this was a DREAM, a waking dream. Just like I had talked about in the group the night before. I had told the people that if they treated events in their life like dreams they might discover some interesting messages. Somehow I failed to notice at the time that I was in my own waking dream.

When the unconscious wants to get your attention it sends you a nightmare, several if you refuse to pay attention. This was my nightmare.

Ok, so what was the message?

LIFE IS A DREAM!  Row row row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream! 

Meaning? Treat life as a dream. Don't take it so personally. Don't get too caught up. Wake up to the unreality, the lunacy, the humor, the absurdity. And don't forget to pay attention.

If only I had understood that at the presentation. If only I had said, "We are in this nightmare together. We can go on like this, struggling, pushing, resisting, or we can become lucid (the term used when you realize you are dreaming) and say, Ahhh. We can make of this moment, this dream what we want."  I think this group might have been receptive to the idea. In fact, I think this approach is applicable with any group, at any presentation. Invite everyone to be involved, to take responsibility for the outcome. This is your dream too.  Let's build it together.

Now take that idea to the bigger world -- to global crisis, the 99% and the next election. Sweet dreaming!

Transforming Grieving

Years ago, I wrote my Ph.D. thesis: "Reality Transformation in Gestalt Therapy Groups." It is based on the theory of a socially constructed reality, i.e. through social interaction and words we continuously construct our world. Reality is, according to this theory, a fluid, contextual phenomenon that shifts and reform with every encounter and every new interaction. We do a lot of mental work to maintain the illusion of continuity and one paramount reality. However, we have been doing it for so long that reality does indeed seem to exist separate from ourselves.

Occasionally the illusion of this single paramount reality breaks down. When the old order no longer works, when all our effort at patching up the illusion of continuity fail, we are forced to break with the old order and literally make a leap of faith into a new world order.

In Gestalt Therapy groups, a client slowly and fearfully lets go of familiar self-conceptions and moves to a wholly new one that is completely incompatible with the former. In order to facilitate this shift, the Gestalt therapist uses various therapeutic strategies to undermine the stability of the old mental order. When the old order is destroyed, the client is compelled, like a deer escaping a forest fire, to leap the chasm separating the old from the new. And like the deer, the leap is made with no knowledge of what is waiting on the far side.

A similar process can occur in grief. The death of someone close is one of those occasions when the continuity of the social reality breaks down and the older order no longer functions. It is both painful, disorienting and also an opportunity for profound transformation. Death, however, unlike Gestalt Therapy groups, calls into question not just our social reality, but the very reality of existence. It stops us in our tracks and nudges us to consider who we are, why we are here and what we are meant to be doing. It is an extraordinary opportunity to look within and heed our hearts. We have a choice in this time of confusion, once we get over the initial shock. We can gradually return to the everyday reality, unchanged except in circumstance and relationship, reapplying the bandaid of illusion or we can discover a whole new way of experiencing our world. Death is an opportunity to discover the mystery and magic of life.

For more about death as transformation see the documentary film series, Secrets of Life and Death. Come to a screening, respond to this blog and join the conversation.

When we are alone on a starlit night, when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children, when we know love in our own hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet, Basho, we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash - at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the newness, the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, all these provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance. -- Thomas Merton

Seeds of Change

Change is an inevitable part of living yet few of us are very comfortable with this. We often exert a great deal of mental and physical effort in maintaining the myth of non-change, such as dying our hair, getting a face lift or buying a sports car in response to our aging. We are, as a social group, quite skilled at maintaining our belief in the continuity of things as they are.

When change is very great, such as the loss of a partner or a long cherished job, the myth of continuity becomes unsustainable. There is no glossing over, no magical paint that can fix our broken world. The old regime, the old order, the past is irrevocably gone. It is extremely disturbing, disorienting and downright painful. However, such change is also an opportunity for profound personal growth if one can open to it.

In the first weeks of loss, the possibility of a new order is unimaginable. On a physical level, the neural  networks in the brain, accustomed to a particular experiential reality, are now denied it. The partner who so reliably arrived every night at 6 pm does not come home. There is no warm body in bed with which to snuggle when cold and no one to wake in the morning. Each and every reminder of the loss will register as mental pain as our brain cells seek and fail to obtain the physical sensations they have come to expect. Add to this a symbolic mind capable of recalling every painful event, every cherished memory in perpetuity and the suffering can be immense.

Great loss puts us into the void, the empty place where all that previously made sense makes no sense. Nothing fits, nothing is right, nothing works. It is a very uncomfortable place  because there is no possibility of repair, no way to go back. However, in this void is the impetus for profound transformation. There are spiritual lessons to learn, new selves to discover, a deeper purpose to embrace. How does this transformation happen? Gradually and with eyes open, as we work day by day to create new hope, new meaning  and new direction for our life. When we see the process of grief within this framework of hope, as a conduit for spiritual transformation, we make a big step toward that transformation.

The film series, Secrets of Life and Death, invites us to explore the spiritual side of life and death. See listing of events in the Bay Area and links to great resources on death, caregiving, aging and grieving.

Life is like dancing. If we have a big floor, many people will dance. Some will get angry when the rhythm changes. But life is changing all the time. -- Miguel Angel Ruiz

If you can learn to accept and even welcome the endings in your life, you may find that the feeling of emptiness that initially felt uncomfortable turns into a sense of inner spaciousness that is deeply peaceful. -- Eckhart Tolle

Death As Snow

When I was growing up, a snow storm was a special treat. It blanketed the streets and houses in a coat of white -- pure, quiet and full of promise. In the night, from my bedroom window, I would watch the falling snow visible under the golden halo of a street lamp and gauge it's strength. Next morning I would awake with hope and anticipation, glancing out the window at the night's accumulation as I made my way to the kitchen to learn the verdict. Was school closed? I held my breath. We dialed in the radio station, a station we listened to only for this news. Sometimes we were too soon or told ourselves we were as we listened to the announced list of closings several more times, willing the name of our school to appear. Oh, that exquisite burst of joy and relief as the familiar name of St. Francis finally came over the air. Yes!! The pause button for daily life had been pushed. The day was ours, free to spend as we liked. We could hardly wait to wiggle into our four layers of clothes and plunge into the crisp morning air and the soft chilly embrace of the mounded snow.

This experience of a snow day was to be repeated many times throughout my childhood in New Jersey. Snow, for me, has such a strong association of pleasure and freedom that even as an adult I find myself rejoicing in its appearance regardless of the inconvenience it might impose. Judging from the cheerfulness of others in the snowy streets, I would guess that many share this same early childhood conditioning. Nature has blessed us with a day off to follow our bliss.

I suppose people who grew up in California or other warm winter climates do not have anything comparable to a snow day from their childhood. Therefore they may not truly understand the association I now make between death and snow. And even those of you who share my snowstorm enthusiasm might wonder. Who would ever attribute joy and freedom with the loss of a loved one? And yet a recent death of a dear old friend and honorary family member brought this connection to mind.

Like a snowstorm, Roy's death gave me permission to take a few days off to follow my heart. Although the logic of time and money dictated restraint, I took three days off to fly back to New Jersey to attend his memorial service and honor his death. Death gave me permission -- an unanticipated snow day I could righteously claim!  Because his death was anticipated and his life limited by failing health, I was not sad. I could celebrate his deliverance with gratitude and immerse myself in a soft mound of memories and gentle grief.

To be sure, not all deaths are amenable to this snow day analogy. Some losses, like that of a spouse or child are too immense, too devastating to have any association of joy. More like a blizzard that breaks phone lines, topples trees and bursts water pipes, we are robbed of our security and sent into a world of unending cold. The storm is too scary, too overwhelming, too upending to be enjoyed even as it sets us free of everything we know.

In the course of our lives, we will encounter easy deaths, challenging deaths and impossible deaths. Savor what you can. Death takes us out of our normal routine and reminds us of the temporariness of life. It's a chance to reflect on our past and consider what's most important. It's also a great opportunity to connect with family and friends and meet new people. To laugh, to cry, to share stories and to honor a person we loved. When death comes, take a snow day -- give yourself permission to break from everyday life and listen to the voice of your heart. 

Next month, for the first time, I will be screening the entire Secrets of Life and Death film series on successive Tuesdays at the First Congregational Church of Berkeley. It's a great chance to take a snow day without having any one die.

Grief As Transformation

The movie, Cherry Blossoms is about life, death, love and the journey of spirit.

It is also about Butoh. I now understand Butoh. Life, death, love, grief and Butoh -- all the same.

My dearly departed friend, Marianne, danced Butoh. Another friend, Sika, has just taken it up. I never understood the attraction.  It seems slow and ponderous, requiring much heady focus. Although, I must admit, when Marianne danced in that slow, deeply internal way, I was mesmerized. Recently, Sikha did a short demonstration of Butoh and then broke into her familiar middle eastern dance. "Oh," I thought, "I like her middle eastern dance much better. She is much more vibrant and free."  But, no, it is all Butoh. Everything, you see, is Butoh.  Butoh is being in the moment. It is the wind on your hand, the dance of your shadow, the feel of the telephone next to your ear recalling the voice of your mother. If I were to write whatever came off my fingertips, without editing, and just posted it, that would be Butoh.

In the movie, Cherry Blossom, Rudi, a German business man, is given a terminal diagnosis. Only he doesn't know it. Only his wife, Trudi, knows. It must have been a terrible burden because she dies suddenly while on the trip that is to be Rudi's last adventure. "Rudi hates adventures," Trudi explains to the doctors who suggest the idea. "He would prefer nothing to ever change." Trudi, on the other hand, is a different spirit. She loves Butoh and has always wanted to go to Japan, to Mt. Fuji, to see the cherry blossoms -- an exquisite symbol of impermanence. Rudi, of course, is embarrassed by Trudi's love of Butoh and always puts off the trip to Japan, always thinks there will be another time. And, of course, there isn't.

Only after Trudi dies, does Rudi comes to appreciate who she really was. "A wild cat in a cage!" he tells a young Butoh dancer he meets in a park in Tokyo --- on the trip he should have taken years ago when Trudi was alive. And how many of us live our lives like Rudi, resistant to change, holding on to the sameness of a dull and routine life? Of like Trudi, for that matter, caging in our wildness to accommodate another?

The movie is about revelations, discovery and opening. Grief can do that, split you wide apart. Because when you have lost the love of your life, anything is possible. "There is no more fear," a woman said to me after losing her partner. "Nothing can be as bad. You have already lost everything." And so Rudi sets aside his dislike of change and the unknown and travels to Tokyo in honor his wife's desire. He go through a lot of change to truly find her, but he's up to the challenge. He befriends a young dancer of Butoh. She teaches him the dance, the dance with the wind on your hand, the shadow at your feet, the spirit of the dead. She dances with a pink telephone cradled to her ear recalling her deceased mother who was always on the phone. At last, they journey to Mt. Fuji to see the cherry blossoms. His act of abandon might initially be understood as homage to his wife. In our initial grief, we can be motivated to some act of bravery like dunking in the cold waters of the Pacific, or hiking up a mountain top, but really, it is not for the deceased. It is for the spirit, the evolution of soul made possible, made irresistible by the emptiness and greatness of loss. Grief is transformation, it is going into the void. It's Butoh.

Channeled Teachings About Life and Death

In my last blog, I explored some of the ways people get their ideas about life after death. Religion has been the primary source of these ideas throughout most of history. Since the advent of hospice and modern medicine, we now have the first-hand experiences of people nearing death (see Final Gifts) and those restored to life after dying (see Life After Life). These new sources have provided a somewhat consistent picture of the initial phase of death, e.g. appearances by the dead, out-of-body consciousness, effulgent light, life review, celestial guidance, etc. For a more fleshed out picture, however, people have sought details from the dead themselves. This information arrives in four distinctive ways: via mediums,through past-life recall, by Instrumental TransCommunication, i.e. electronic devices, and in dreams. Real? Silly? Fraudulent? Perhaps all three?

MEDIUMS

Psychically talented persons, called mediums enable contact with the dead through channeling and telepathy. In channeling, a deceased or other-worldly entity takes over the body of the medium in order to speak. The entrance of the entity is typically marked by a preparatory trance meditation by the medium followed by an awakening and noticeable change in posture, voice, mannerisms, and verbal expression indicative of the new resident. It is very theatrical. Some mediums channel a single entity, others provide a multitude of characters, like a telephone operator switching to different lines, or a very good actor switching roles. In telepathy, the medium (perhaps lacking the requisite theatrical skills) is not taken over by the entity but rather hears (clairaudience), sees (clairvoyance) and/or feels (clairsentience) the messages of the dead. As in life, there seems to be a hierarchy in channeled entity world. Some are simply the dead relatives of bereaved families while others command a much wider audience as spiritual teachers  (e.g. Abraham, Art & Pursah, Michael, Matthew, Seth, the Akashic Records, Pleiadeans, Edgar Cayce).

Carolyn North, author of The Experience of a Lifetime: living fully dying consciously has written a very interesting piece, Life Post-Mortem on life and the afterlife gleaned from the published communications of ten or more channeled entities who appeared in either England, the U.S. or South Africa between 1909 and 1978. Their numbers included such notables as Arthur Conan-Doyle (author of Sherlock Holmes) and T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) along with lesser-known personages. Both skeptical and intrigued, Carolyn was impressed by the consistency of description among the various entities, ". . .  although there was little chance that they (the channelers) could have either known each other or come across each others' accounts during their lifetimes, what they had to say was virtually identical across the board!" Below are a few quotes to inspire further reading.

• Regarding the difference between life and death, Dr. Myers, a deceased Cambridge scholar, says: The secret of death is to be found in the rate of speed at which the outer shell vibrates. For instance, a human being is primarily aware of the visible world about him because his body is traveling at its particular rate of speed. Alter the timing of your physical form and the earth, men, women and all material objects will vanish for you as you vanish for them. Death, therefore, means merely a change of speed. For the purpose of this change a temporary dislocation is necessary, for the soul must pass from one body traveling at a certain vibration to another traveling at a different rate or time.
• Diplomat and Far East adventurer, Joe Gascoigne, explains our earthly existence: The earth is a place where we learn and grow by experiencing life in matter. We repeat the process lifetime after lifetime until, by becoming literally "enlightened" we make ourselves accessible to Light by effacing layers of density until what is left is our most subtle core of being.
• Frances, an ex-nun, describes her experience of the life review: Somewhere in the depths of the mind two blueprints are brought forward into consciousness. These are so clear that one can literally take them out and study them. One is the Perfect Idea with which the spirit goes bravely into incarnation. The other is what results from an only partially-understood Plan - in fact, life as it is actually lived.
• On the various level of death, Arthur Conan-Doyle reports: The difficulty is to find adequate words with which to describe the conditions of life after death. Every soul must some day pass through a second death before it quits this first after-death plane. After experiencing a period of unconsciousness which may last for minutes, hours, days or even years, the soul then awakes to to a renewed, rich and vivid life when it sees truth revealed. With this in view, man advances into the mental conditions of his being, automatically migrating to the particular mental plane to which his soul is attuned.

I have personally witnessed a number of channelers in action. While their performances are quite captivating, I find myself unwilling to whole-heartedly accept their claims of entity inhabitation. It's not that I disbelieve in an afterlife or in the possibility of communications between the living and the dead. I am open to both. My reticence is due in part to the high potential for fraud and deception in the channeling trade. How very disturbing it would be to be duped. And the carefully orchestrated theatric quality of the channeling feeds my disbelief.

Popular in early 19th century United Kingdom and the United States and coinciding with the rise of Spiritualism, mediumship quickly fell into disrepute after several popular and widely followed mediums were exposed for the use of stage magic tricks to dupe their audiences. People do hate to be deceived. In her book, The Wheel of Life, death expert Kubler-Ross provided a contemporary example of this kind of metaphysical disillusionment. A trance medium she had followed for many years was exposed for sexual indiscretions along with faking much of his channeling. Although it utterly destroyed her belief in the medium, interestingly, it did not shake her belief in some of his channeled entities which she apparently met separately without the medium assistance. 

One often hear about the use of mediums and psychic during murder investigations.This certainly lend to their credibility. However, it is possible their  talents have been greatly exaggerated. For arguments on either side see Police Psychics: Do They Really Help Solve Crimes?, Wikipedia and Psychic Detectives. Scientific studies have attempted to test the psychic abilities of mediums. Only a few studies support their claims and those that do often suffer from procedural biases. For example, mediums were tested in the presence of their subjects and thus allowed access to non-verbal and physical clues regarding personal information -- much in the way Sherlock Holmes deduced impressive details about a person merely by noting their clothes, manner and the roughness of their hands. A more recent study conducted at the Windbridge Institute addresses these procedural issues by eliminating direct contact between subject and psychic. Even the person who contacts the medium is kept in the dark regarding the subject for whom the reading is to be given. Results of this study, reported in Explore: The Journal of Science & Healing 3, no. 1 (2007): 23-27, show some support for the psychic abilities of medium. However the study provides no indication of how mediums obtain their information, i.e. from the dead or otherwise.

An alternative explanation of how mediums get their information may be found in the holographic theory of quantum physicist, David Bohm on the interconnectedness of the universe. In a nutshell his theory postulates a higher order realm, the implicative order, from which everything manifests on the worldly level, the explicative order.

"Bohm suggests that the whole universe can be thought of as a kind of giant, flowing hologram, or holomovement, in which a total order is contained, in some implicit sense, in each region of space and time. The explicate order is a projection from higher dimensional levels of reality, and the apparent stability and solidity of the objects and entities composing it are generated and sustained by a ceaseless process of enfoldment and unfoldment, for subatomic particles are constantly dissolving into the implicate order and then recrystallizing." See David Bohm and the Implicative Order

Interpreted according to this theory, mediums obtains their psychic readings by tapping into the implicative order. Locality and contact with the subject of the reading is irrelevant because the information is everywhere. Interestingly, Bohm's theory of an implicative order, is consistent with the explanation of channeling given to me by a trance-medium I interviewed for a television show back in the mid-90's. This medium characterized channeling as tapping into a higher realm (like Bohm's implicative order) and extracting information. It is an ability, he told me, that we all share to varying degrees. Doing a Tarot reading or consulting the I Ching are common tools of taping into that other realm. 

I like Bohm's theory, it resonates with my own belief system. This brings up the other reason why I do not whole-heartedly believe in the channeling dead spirit -- my underlying belief system. Channeled entities and spirits do not quite fit in to my Sufi training and spiritual experiences whereas tapping into the implicative order does. How something "fit" with one's current beliefs is probably the way most of us judge metaphysical phenomenon and discriminate between the sublime and the ridiculous. Lest we chastise ourselves too much for our illogical reasoning, it is important to remember that even scientists are susceptible to this bias and are just as reluctant to welcome new theories that are at odds with their own. We are protective of our belief systems. They provide meaning to our world and make us feel comfortable. We do not let go of them easily

How does one arrive at a belief system regarding the afterlife? In my own case, it seems to be from a combination of life experiences, spiritual teachings, book reading, and slew of mind bending death stories from totally ordinary people.

My belief system, idiosyncratic as it is, allows me to appreciate the teachings, for example, of a famous channeled entity without actually believing in its existence. I totally believe in the law of attraction, while suspending my judgement regarding Abraham, the channeled entity. This is because when I put my mind to it, the law of attraction seems to works for me and it fits with my belief system. And even if I am deluding myself and everything is totally random, I'm still a happier person because law of attraction encourages a discipline toward positivity rather than complaining. "Don't complain, that only brings on more of the bad.  Think about what you want!" And doesn't thinking about what you want make you feel much more happy than thinking about what you don't want?

I had a stunning encounter with the Law of Attraction, long before I had ever heard the term. Just after my first summer camp with Sufi Master Adnan Sarhan, about 25 years ago, I found myself in Albuquerque on the way to a Pueblo ceremony with a car full of German Sufi students. I was driving my 1968 VW bus, which ceased functioning when I stopped to pick up my last rider. For a moment I considered crying and gnashing my teeth, my usual response to auto malfunctions. However, having just completed two months of transcendent spiritual practice, I decide to flow with the moment and surrender to whatever happened. It was as though the universe had paused to observe my decision and reformed itself around my choice. I pulled out my trusty "Idiots Manual" for VW owners" and just as I sorted out the automotive issue, a young man showed up at my side and asked if he could be of assistance. I humorously replied, "Not unless you are a VW mechanic." To which he replied, "As a matter of fact, I am." I laughed. Not only was he a VW mechanic but he also had the very part I needed to repair the car in his garage. A half-hour later we were on way. As we drove off it dawned on me that it was Labor Day and all the automotive repair places were closed.

Next time: Past-life regression and recollection or maybe dream of the dead.