Communications from the "Other Side"

The first time I heard about communications from the dead was shortly after my mother had died in 1998. I was very unsettled by her loss and talking to everyone about death. A friend of mine told me the  story about her own mother's death.

Liz (not her real name) and her sister Kate (pseudonym) were caring for their dying mother for about a week. It had been decided to let nature take its course and not to use any extraordinary measures to keep her alive. However, shortly before her death, their mother panicked and demanded an ambulance. Although they tried to dissuade her, she was not to be denied. The paramedics quickly arrived, administered CPR and transported the mother's deceased body to the hospital where it was confirmed that she was indeed dead.  The daughters, unable to ride in the ambulance or to follow, waited in the mother's apartment for news of her death. That night, strange electronic disturbances began to occur. The lights and the radio would come on and off intermittently and of their own accord. The telephone rang, but no one was on the other line. This went on all night. The next morning, bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, Liz announced to her sister that they should visit their mother in the morgue, that perhaps she was not at peace given the chaotic circumstances of her departure. So they visited their mom's body and spoke to her. They told her that she was dead now and that it was ok and they would be fine. The electronic disturbances in the apartment never recurred.

A few months later, I interviewed several people on my San Francisco TV show, On the Edge, regarding their experiences with death. One of the women in the group shared the following story:
On the day of her father's death he asked for help to take a shower, shave and dress. When all of this was all accomplished to his satisfaction, he peacefully died. As the family gathered to mourn his passing, the radio came on of its own volition playing the father's  favorite song. Soon after, a bouquet of flowers was delivered to his wife made up of her favorite flowers. There was no card and no one at the flower shop seemed able to identify who had placed the order. Furthermore, there had not yet been any formal announcement of his passing.

Over the years of facilitating grief support groups, I have heard a number of examples  of what appear to be communications from the other side. Vivid dreams, radio disturbances and recently the voice of a deceased wife speaking to her husband on his cell phone the day after she passed, asking how he was doing. Such events, whether real or random, have a comforting effect on the grieving recipients. They feel both loved and reassured that all is well with the one who has died.
While I have always believed in the validity of this sort of communication with the dead, mostly because of the wide variety of people who reported it, I was quite unprepared for the level of information revealed in the full-length documentary, Calling Earth.  Produced by a filmmaker friend of mine, Daniel Drasin, this film on Instrumental Transcommunication (ITC) interviews an amazing number of people who have attempted to scientifically studied and verify the use of electronic devices to communicate with spirits and ghosts. See wikipedia for a nice summary of ITC history. For organizations dedicated to promoting awareness about ITC and the procedures for doing it yourself see Transcommunication.org; World ITC; and Angels Ghosts .

It's a little spooky and just a little over the top, especially the audio recordings of voices from the other side. Some of its is intelligible, some quite clear, none sound human. Is this real, fantasy or fraud. Well, you get a chance to judge for yourself. Daniel is sharing his documentary with the Berkeley community next Tuesday, July 24th, 7:30 pm at the Berkeley Fellowship, at Cedar and Bonita. See SF Gate for more information.

What do I believe? I believe the world is a more mysterious place than we ever imagined. I also believe that this sort of phenomenon is ripe for exploitation and abuse. Use your discernment and turn on your wacko-meter. You don't have to accept it all to believe in an afterlife or communications from the other side. While you're at it, check out this blog post about a very talented psychic medium, Denise Lescano and an impressive communication from the other side

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!

Dream Guidance

Dreams are an amazing resource if you can learn how to decode them. They can give you information about the purpose of your life, the state of your health, the people you have lost or the progress of your work. They can even hint at  what you should do or not do. But, how to make sense of them? So many wild visuals: water, zebras, butterflies, overflowing toilets, crammed bookshelves, trains, mountain trails, people you feel you know but can’t identify when you wake up. What does it all mean?

Like poetry, dreams are full of symbolism and metaphor. If you give them time and attention you can start to learn the language of your own dreams. The first step is to write them down. Best to do it when you first wake up, because dreams have a habit of slipping away quickly. Some dream enthusiasts will wake up in the middle of the night to record their dreams. Not me, I’m much too attached to my sleep. Also, I read in one of Jeremy Taylor’s books (big dream author) about writing down dreams only to discover in the morning that the writing had been a dream too. So why even try. The way I figure it, if it’s important, I’ll remember.

Expert dreamers have some helpful hints about keeping a dream journal and interpreting dreams. When you are writing down your dream always write it in the present tense as though it were happening in this very moment. This helps to bring the dream into the present and makes it more accessible to the intuitive side of your brain. 

How you feel about the dream and also how you felt just after the dream can be important clues to the dreams meaning. If you felt positive about the dream, what is going right in your life right now? Can you relate it to your dream.  If you felt frightened, or angry or sad, again consider what is happening in your life and see if there's a connection. 

Next, examine everything in your dream: every object, person and action and consider what special meaning each has for you. In my own dreams, buses, trains, cars and bikes regularly appear. They are all forms of locomotion -- ways for me to move forward. I usually associate them with the work I've doing for the last twelve years, making and distributing my film series, Secrets of Life and Death. Train? Moves fast, but not in my power. Bicycle? Slow and easy and under my own steam.

It helps to share your dream with others who are also enthusiastic about dreams. Their interpretations of your dreams and vice versa can provide many new insights, besides making it a lot more fun. The rule about interpreting someone else’s dream, however, is to always preface your interpretation with: “if it were my dream, it would mean. . .” The meaning of your dreams is always up to the dreamer. There is no one right interpretation, only the interpretation that feels right for you. 

Books of symbols can be a good resource for additional ideas. Since I often dream about animals, my favorite book is, Animal Speak by Ted Andrews.

My dreams have given me a lot of insight throughout my film making process. Scanning through a dream journal written in 2006, I happened on a dream titled, “Caught on the last step.” This was a month before I contracted with the editor who helped me finish my films. In the dream my foot is stuck on the last step of a staircase. I have to step backward to move forward again. And that is exactly what I ended up doing in real life. I went back to the editor I had given up on a year ago because she was too busy. The timing was the right and we were able to finish editing the first two films in four months.

So give it a try. Dreaming is one of the great mysteries of existence. It can put magic into your life.

Understanding Death For Those Without Faith

A survey of attendees at my last film screening revealed consensus for wanting a deeper understanding of death. While our discussion was amazing in its breadth and coverage of difficult topics such as anger, acceptance, loneliness and the need for help, nothing was said about what happens when you die. No one in the room appeared to have the requisite personal experience.  No near-deathers, no reincarnates, no prophets or seers.

My objective for my workshops is simple-- get people talking about death.  But the survey made me realize that my audience was looking for something more -- specific information about death itself. The traditional place for obtaining an understanding of death is religion. All major world religions have something to say about death whether it flowery fields at the foot of God, the luminous embrace of deceased loved ones, return to the dreamtime, absorption by the mother goddess, or scary visions that send us scurrying back into rebirth for another round. Those with a deep faith may be comforted by the teachings of their chosen path. But this avenue offers little to those who have lost their childhood religious beliefs or never had any to begin with. What can I offer to a person who truly believes at the core of her being that she will cease to exist at the moment of her death? Sixty-two percent of my screening participants either did not report a religious/spiritual identification or said they were Atheist.

In the workshop, I asked people to consider death is an option, a path that might be chosen instead of taking on still more aggressive chemos, more invasive radiation, surgical interventions or high-priced experimental treatments neither tested or approved. My mother had metastatic breast cancer. The surgeons removed 70% of her intestines because it spread there and she could no longer eliminate waste. The surgery gave her about four more months to live. It gave her time to finish up her life. Her oncologist, however, also recommended chemotherapy. I would not have thought her a good candidate. She was extremely underweight, could hardly eat because of a paralysis to the right side of her face and her cancer had spread to her liver. After two treatments, she said "No more." The physical impact was too debilitating, too awful to endure. Physicians will recommend procedures even though the probability of success is miniscule. It is hard to take away hope. Families beg for hope. And well, you never know. Miracles happen. Also, to put it crudely, it's a business model. If a patient never think of death as an option, if he/she never face fears about dying, treatment may continue right up until the very last breath.

Well, why not? If you believe that you cease to exist at the end of that last breath isn't living, even in suffering, preferable to non-existence??? Maybe not. My mother didn't think so. Maybe the atheists at my workshop are not so sure either.  Or maybe they are looking for something else when all hope seems gone.

Besides religion, another way we can learn about dying is from those nearing death. The following list of books look to the experiences of the dying for guidance. Even the confirmed atheist can find something useful here.

• Dying Well, Ira Byock, MD, Berkeley Publishing, Berkeley, 1997 -- Full of heart-opening stories about finishing up relational business, saying good-bye and letting go, this book is primer for dying in peace. His five essential steps are I forgive you; forgive me, thank you, I love you, good-bye.
• Final Gifts, Maggie Callanan and Patricia Kelley, Bantam Books, NY 1992 -- Rich and mysterious stories about the leave-taking process of dying collected over ten years by two hospice nurses. Full of the mystery of this amazing transition.
• The Grace in Dying, Kathleen Dowling Singh, Harper, San Francisco, 1998 -- Pulling together the essence of many world wisdom traditions, (e.g. Christianity, Buddhism, Zen, Native American religions, Sufism, the Kabbalah) and years of working at the bedside of the dying, transpersonal psychologist Singh formulates a sort of Jungian process of psychospiritual  transformation from ego to "Ground of Being." Interesting and heady, the book extracts the best teachings from our religious traditions. But it is not for someone close to death.  For those near death, she says, "...put the book down. And know that you are safe. ... If you are dying, your mind will come to know this soon. So go and rest or go and pray or go and meditate, so that when you begin to enter the realms of the sacred you will resonate with those realms gently."
• Who Dies, Stephen and Ondrea Levine, Doubleday, NY, 1982 -- Pioneers in the conscious dying movement, Stephen and Ondrea share knowledge and insights obtained from years at the Hanuman Foundation Dying Project. Included are wonderful meditations on forgiveness, pain and dying. There is also an amazing description of what dying feels like from the inside -- mentally transmitted to Stephen from one of his patients. I read this book after my parents died and experienced a profound shift in my understanding of illness and healing. 

Ultimately the message in all these books is to embrace the mystery. Life is an amazing experience and so is dying. Welcome everything. 

Departures

Rick Fields' Ashes

In the Japanese film Departures by director Yojiro Takita, an out-of-work cellist accidentally finds a new career casketing the dead. The Japanese, we discover in this film, are as death phobic as we are in the West. This premise makes for a humorous, at times emotional, and very engaging film about life, death and relationships.

The young cellist, Daigo Kobayashi, is reluctant at first to accept this highly questionable vocation. But he learns from his boss to encasket the dead with the elegance and precision of a Japanese tea ceremony. The process is amazing to watch and he is soon drawn into it beyond the lucrative pay that first hooked him. With respect and dignity and various trade tricks deftly concealed behind wraps and cloth, the two men transform the deceased from a thing of horror into beauty before the eyes of the grieving family. Frequently, though not always, their exquisite work opens the family to their grieving.

The film stimulates a lot of thought about how we deal with death and dead bodies in the States. I have already written about our aversion to death as revealed in our obsession with medical technology to stave it off at all costs. After death this aversion continues in our haste to call professionals to remove the body and handle the nasty bits. And what do you think of the undertaker -- that tall slim fellow with gaunt cheeks, solemn face and back silk hat? Mercenary? Insincere? Obsequious? That's how he's depicted by Dickens. But what are your experiences?

When my brother Sandy unexpectedly died, we were able to briefly visit his body at the mortuary. It was not an official viewing, which would have been costly, but rather an "identification." The mortuary was fairly sure it had the right body, but family are permitted to examine and identify their loved one without additional charge. Sandy was laid out on a wheeled table dressed only in a black plastic body bag. He looked asleep, but he was cold to the touch. I must say, there is nothing quite like touching a dead body to comprehend that the former inhabitant is no longer home.

The impulse of my brother's widow was to glance at the body and then leave the room. "Yup, that's him." To be sure she was still in shock from finding his dead body in bed the previous morning. But our culture also supports a hasty retreat. I chose, however, to stay a while, as did my other brother, Skip. We watched and waited to see what might happen, to let memories and feelings emerge, to formulate final words for our brother's unhearing ears. The widow returned, three times, first to berate him for leaving her and finally to kiss him goodbye. I like to think we held the space for her to take her time. But we may only have prolonged her discomfort. Do what you need to do and let others do what they need. It is the best rule at times like these.

I am not sure how I feel about the primping of a dead body. I remember a lot of deprecating comments about how my deceased grandmother looked in her open casket all rouged and lipsticked. She did not look anything like our "gramma." In contrast, my brother Sandy looked very much like himself without any adornment. However, there was something very stark and discomforting about his utilitarian display on the gurney. After my dear friend Marianne died and the hospice orderly had cleaned her up, we dressed her, combed her hair, and applied lipstick to her lips even though her next stop was the crematorium. Doing this felt right and respectful. After our gentle ministrations, her mouth, previously slack-jawed and open, softened into a sweet, contented smile. Was she pleased? Primping seemed the right thing to do in her case. Perhaps the difference lie in the manner of those doing the primping, i.e. with reverence and love. That is why I find the the ritual preparation in Departures is so compelling.

In California, home-based funerals are gaining popularity not only to save money, but also reclaim the ancient and intimate ritual of preparing the body for burial. People trained in the practice of body preparation can be hired to guide a family through the process and paperwork. Or you can read up on it at Final Passages. Keeping the body at home has the added advantage of providing ample time to sit with the deceased, rather than be hastened by the organizational needs of professional facilities.

Although contemplating death and decay may be a time-honored practice among the Buddhists, it is not everyone's cup of tea. Even I, who can wax romantically about the emotional benefits of doing it yourself, pause at the thought of actually preparing the body of my six feet tall, 300+ lbs brother. Distributing his ashes, which nearly filled a tall garbage bag, was task enough.

The chevra kadisha, a team of professional volunteers trained in the burial preparation, offers a middle road approach between the do-it-yourselfers and high-priced professionals at least for those of the Jewish faith. They mix spirituality with practicality as they wash, purify and dress the deceased in a process called taharah. The Jews, apparently, have held on to their time-honored practices of handling death while much of western culture has spent the last 100 years hiding it in the closet. We might learn from them and and from our graceful encasketers in Departures, as we seek our own personal approach to death and the dead. The people in my newest film, The Heart of Grieving, offer some additional possibilities, none of which involve washing dead bodies. When clear cultural instructions are lacking, we do best to follow our hearts.

Meditation: listening to your heart

Lately I’ve been getting the message that I need do more meditating. Not just sit for twenty minutes and let my mind wander, but really focus on being in the moment. In his book, When Everything Changes, Change Everything, Neal Donald Walsch describes meditation well, “I have to work hard to turn my mind off and just be with the moment and the experience, without judging it, defining it, or trying to make something happen or figure it out or understand it from my logic center. It is rather like making love.”

I am told that if I make the space for more meditation, my life will be transformed. Why do I want my life transformed? Mostly, because I worry a lot -- about making enough money, about paying for my new home, about the increase in the price of food and gas, about aging and the cost of healthcare, about the country, social security and the fat cats who call all the shots at the top, about earthquakes, radiation, and global weather chaos, etc. I am tried of all the worrying, complaining, resisting and blaming. Aren't you?

Meditation stops the voice of worry -- in Arabic, naf or mischievous whisperer. Meditation connects me to SOUL, the spirit inside and then I remember the soul’s viewpoint. The soul, you see, has its own agenda about why I am here in this life and what is suppose to be happening. I trust that agenda when remember it. A friend posted on facebook – “We are SOUL in a body, [this] helps me remember that anything but happiness is my choice.”

To the skeptics who would mock my words, calling me delusional, out of touch, a Pollyanna (and this may be my own personal skeptic) I say, “Why worry?” Worrying accomplishes nothing except to make me feel bad and unhappy. Do what you need to do. Take positive action. But don't worry.

A photographer recently posted a photo blog about the homeless on State Street in Madison, Wisconsin. These people have all the problems you’d expect -- drug and alcohol abuse, bad health, mental illness, smelly bodies and no money -- and yet they show more integrity, compassion and love for each other than most of us do for our own families. They even have joy. I am not proposing homelessness as a solution to worrying, although a brief visit might be very mind opening. I mention this because it shows me once again that it is not your circumstances that cause happiness or misery; it is the way you perceive your circumstances.

Mediation teaches us to discipline our thoughts, to control the ego of self-importance and open to the intelligence of the heart. It is the soul-ution to all the problems. ”Wisdom,” says Eckhart Tolle, “is not a product of thought. The deep knowing that is wisdom arises through the simple act of giving someone or something your full attention. Attention is primordial intelligence, consciousness itself. It dissolves the barriers created by conceptual thought, and with this comes the recognition that nothing exits in and by itself. It joins the perceiver and the perceived in a unifying field of awareness. It is the healer of separation.” Meditation teaches us how to pay attention, how to listen, how to be without judgment.

Things are so out of whack in the world, so distorted, violent and hateful, the only place to go is inside, back to the source, to the place of unity. All else is sorrow.