A Tale of Two Worlds Part 6: The Grand Finale of the Heart

The last time I visited New Jersey, Jeannie said that she wanted me to come to her house to do a session with her and her daughters again, even though they were not sure why. She expressed that they had all found peace, and that they felt connected to John, and that things were good, and still she felt that I needed to come over. So, we scheduled a time to do that.

The scenario was the same. My friend Dita picked me up to drive me their house after dinner. As soon as I got into the car I felt John’s presence; it was strong and determined, and he made it very clear to me that he wanted to speak with his son. It was a non-stop conversation he had with me for the entire ride to the house.

I walked into the house and was greeted with the familiar love and warmth that I had become accustomed to with them, and Jeannie again telling me that she had no idea why I was there. Well, I certainly knew why I was there.

“I do. John wants to speak with his son, and this is the reason that I’m here. Jeannie and her daughters looked at each other saying, “That’s not going to happen. He won’t come down here, we already asked him.” I on the other hand was certain that, one way or another, that boy was going to end up in the room with me, and when it did happen, he might not even know how he got there.

Three of us went into the living room, and Maryann went upstairs to her little brother John Jr. and told him that I was there and that he should come downstairs. He declined.

The four of us began to talk, and I shared with them some of the things that John had been telling me on the drive over to their house. John was present in the room with us, and he was sharing with them, through me, what it was that he wanted to talk to his son about. His son John Jr. was seventeen at the time of this session; he was fourteen when his dad died.

As the four of us continued to talk, I felt John’s presence leave the room and head for the staircase that lead to his son’s room. Maryann followed close behind. It was almost like John had said to her, “Come on. Let’s go get him.” She came down a few minutes later and said that he was not coming downstairs, and that he thought the whole thing was too weird. My feeling at this point was to be patient, because unbeknown to John Jr. his father was coaxing him to come downstairs.

I felt John’s presence come back into the room and stand right next to me. Trailing behind him a few moments later was John Jr. John Jr. walked into the room and sat in the chair that was closest to the entrance that he had come into the living room through, perhaps so if he needed to leave quickly, he could. I turned my chair so that we were facing each other diagonally across the room from each other. To my right was the “L” shaped couch, which held Jeannie and her two daughters.

The room was suddenly very quiet, and the air was filled with a subtle apprehension.

I introduced myself to John Jr. and thanked him for being so brave to come into a situation, which I knew sounded totally bizarre. I then proceeded to tell him that his dad very much wanted to communicate with him, and that was the reason I was there that evening. John Sr. was a proactive father in every sense of the word. He was strongly involved in his kid’s lives, and his son’s very much so. This was his boy. Understandably, his son had been devastated by his dad’s death, and as a result, John Jr.’s life had gone downhill for the past three years.

As he sat there, nervously fidgeting a bit, I could see that he was pretty uncomfortable. I wanted to change that so he could be more at ease. He had a great presence of heart; I could feel that he was kind, but he also seemed confused and maybe a bit lost.

He was wearing a black tee shirt that had something on the front, which actually came up later in the interaction that took place, but I can’t remember what it said now. Even though he was nervous, John Jr. seemed willing to be present with me. I was suddenly overcome with a feeling of love, and I just wanted to hug him; I stayed in my chair, observing the emotional sensations that I was having that were growing in strength. As I was looking at him, I saw a football helmet in my mind, so I asked him if played, and he said yes. I knew his dad was feeding me images and information about his son so that I could open the gates of communication between him and me. It worked.

Our communication started out simple, on the level of personality and interest, and then all of the sudden the conversation took a turn to reveal information about John Jr. drinking and being self-destructive, and him doing poorly in school, and letting things that his dad was so proud of him for just go down the drain. He agreed that all of this was happening. His posture told me that though he felt defeated in a sense by the choices that he had made, that he didn’t want his life to be as such. I could tell that this was not who this young man really was, and that he had lost his way with his dad’s death. He missed his dad so much; he didn’t know what to do, how to live, or even how to be with himself. He’d lost his way.

Suddenly, I had a very strange sensation. It was as if John Sr. had come right into my body and began talking directly to his son. It was so powerful and so intense, and this is partly why it’s taken me so long to write this part of this story. I felt that suddenly I was an observer; a witness to what was happening between John and his son, and I was so overcome with emotion, that it’s hard for me now to remember all that happened in those moments. I was crying and talking at the same time, and John Jr. was crying and responding, and Jeannie and the girls were crying. It was like an emotional bomb went off in the living room. The power of the love that was present brings tears to my eyes as I write this.

The conversation between the two of them grew in intensity. John was talking with his son about everything that he was doing, or not doing, and that he wanted him to know that he was still there with him. He began telling him about specific incidents that had occurred since he had died, that involved only John Jr., and sometimes his friends. This boy went from being a total skeptic to talking directly to his father while he was looking straight at me. I was in the middle of such intensive love, such powerful direction from father to son, and such a huge explosion of “I’m still here and I love you” experience for all of us present, that it was like being swept away by a fifty-foot tidal wave. That tidal wave was composed of pure love; a father’s love for his son.

There are no words to really describe what occurred that night, and what I’ve written here is just a small piece of something so enormous it’s almost difficult to comprehend, when I think about it. That evening, all of our lives were transformed. The greatest gift of all though, was to see the total transformation that happened with John Jr. It was a healing of the greatest proportion; he walked in that room broken, angry, and lost, and he walked out with peace of mind and heart, with hope, and most importantly, with a living, real connection with his dad.

A Tale of Two Worlds Part 5: A Seamless Transition

I apologize for taking so long to write this part of the story, as I know that many of you have been waiting for it. When I decided to share this story via the blog, I knew that I would have to break it down into segments because of how it unfolded in time. As I have revisited this journey, I’ve remembered things that I’d forgotten, and I’ve forgotten things that happened. This part of the story, and the final piece that will follow were profound experiences for me personally and I've had to think about how to share them.

Six months after my visit to New Jersey, where I had met Joey, I was invited to a fund raising event in Malibu, California. The core members of a band from the 70’s were headlining the event that evening; two brothers who had carried the spirit of their band forward into now, which was 2007. The band was the same band that John and Joey had played with in the 70’s, and that Joey still played drums for on occasion. When I heard this, I immediately created the expectation of being able to meet these guys and share with them about John and Joey, and how John had called for Joey from the other side.

Many of my good friends were attending this event, and since at the time I was living most of my time in Kauai, I was excited to be going so that I could connect with my friends. My most long time friend, Gwen was there, and at one point we were out on the floor dancing with another friend of hers from Philadelphia, her name Sandra. Sandra was the wife of the singer in the band. After a while, the three of us found a table so that we could sit down to talk. “Have I got a story for you!” I told Sandra, and I began to tell her the story of the families in New Jersey, and how all of this had been unfolding over time. She knew all of them, and she was more than fascinated at hearing what had taken place. Granted, I didn’t give her any personal details about those readings, because I hold sacred the commitment to confidentiality. But, I did share with her that John had come through, and how he had showed me the gold record, and how he had asked for Joey. She told me that after the show was over, she wanted to take me backstage to talk with “the guys” so that I could share all of this with them.

The event that evening was very successful. The attendance was great, the music was awesome, the food was wonderful, and people were happy. At the end of the evening, as people were saying their good-byes and walking out the door, Sandra asked me to go backstage with her.
We walked into a backstage room, where all the guys from the band were moving about, packing guitars, and drums, and other equipment. The room was narrow with black couches lined against one wall, and instruments of all types lined along the wall across from the couches. Sandra introduced me to her husband, Michael and his brother Martin. She told them that they needed to listen to what I was about to tell them. So, I told them a little about how I facilitate communication for people with their loved ones on the other side. They looked at me for a second, and kept doing what they were doing. I began to share the story about John’s family, and the communication with John on the other side.

First response: they looked at me like I was nuts--totally and completely nuts. “Oh god, this isn’t going to go over well”, I thought to myself. “Oh well”, I proceeded with my story about how John had called for Joey the first time I was with the family, and how on my second visit I met Joey in person. They stopped doing what they were doing.

Michael and Martin just stood there, both of them looking at me, in total silence. I didn’t know what to think. First they acted like they were ignoring me, and now they stopped everything and there was dead silence in the room. Then they told me. They told me that Joey was dead.

Joey had died in October, and it was now February. He died six weeks after I was there with him. He died of a heart attack while was playing the drums. I was speechless. I turned my attention away from them, and searched my memory for the conversations and experiences that occurred on that night when we were all in that room at Maryann’s house—the night that Joey was there. Then I thought about all those people on the other side that had come to be with Joey, and I remembered how odd it was to me that they were to my right.

In that moment I realized that they had come to connect with him so that he would know they were there. I also realized why John had called for him to come so that he could talk with him, connect with him, open the door for him; so to speak. In those moments, as I sat there on that black vinyl couch, it was like the hundreds of pieces of a puzzle were all falling together to create a picture. And now Joey was on the other side, and I could feel him there in the room with all of us backstage.

Michael and Martin didn’t really connect with anything I was saying, or that it was possible to communicate with “the dead”. I sat there looking around the room, as they busily continued to pack their instruments. I felt as if I were on the other side looking in. I felt Joey, John, and Ralph all beside me – to my left. I looked at Sandra sitting there beside me wondering why Michael and Martin weren’t more present with what was actually happening. She was. I honestly felt in those moments that I was on the other side rather than this one. I was in awe of how this group of people; both in this world and the other, were weaving their way through time, and through the timeless, to connect with one another, and I thought about what Spencer had said to me once again, “ …there’s nowhere to go.”

Little did I know that there would be one more trip to New Jersey coming soon, and one more connection that would take place, and that experience would be by far the most heart wrenching, bitter-sweet, healing experience of all. And, remembering that experience and wondering how to write about it has had me thinking for weeks.

A Tale of Two Worlds Part 4: We Are Here For You

It had been six months since I had been to New Jersey, and since I had talked with Jeannie and her daughters. When they heard that I was coming to town, Jeannie scheduled time for another session. This time though, we were going to Maryann’s house and her husband was going to be there, and they said that someone else would be joining us as well.

Once again it was evening when I was driven to the home of Maryann and her husband Jeff. When I walked in I was greeted with open arms, hearts, and minds. Jeannie, Maryann, and Barbara were all excited to see me, and I was very happy to see them.

It seemed that they had grown emotionally, and they appeared to be happier than when I had first met them. Being there now felt a bit like a family reunion, and there were two new people to include. Jeff was definitely skeptical; it was written all over his face. I joked with him a little bit with the hope that he would relax and see me as a normal person, and more importantly, feel comfortable with what was about to happen. I was also introduced to another man whose name was, Joey.

I do a lot of readings. I talk to a lot of people, on this side, and the other. I do not remember details unless I search for them, or I am reminded of what happened. I had totally forgotten that our last session together ended with John requesting someone named “Joey” to be present. So, when I was introduced to him, I had no conscious association—I didn’t remember that he had been called for.

We moved into the living room, which was already arranged for our evening together. The couch was huge. It was crescent shaped, it was beige, and it looked very comfortable. Maryann graciously offered me a cozy armchair that was placed facing the couch, and then they all sat down before me. I remember that moment clearly, because I noticed something very precious. They were like little children. They were innocent and eager, except for Jeff and Joey, who were a little timid now. Jeff was looking at me very intensely – I felt like he was trying to sum me up; figure out if I was a charlatan. Joey was simply curious.

I love going to New Jersey and New York. I love the people there. Joey was a New York Italian, who grew up in Queens, and he was a little edgy, very sweet, had dark pensive eyes, was quick to smile and laugh, and carried himself as if he’d been around the block several times. I like him immediately. It was one of those, “What you see is what you get” kind of feelings that I had when I looked at him. He was curious because he’d been told that John had requested his presence the next time we did this. I had not remembered that at this point, nor had anyone reminded me. So, Joey is thinking that I know who he is, and I’m clueless. This was a recipe for perfection.

First person to come through from the other side was Paul, Jeff’s dad, who had died eight months prior. I didn’t know that. Although, when I did the initial reading six months earlier, John had shown me from the other side, that they had all been to a party, and at that time when I had mentioned that he was showing me the party, they told me that it was a funeral they had recently attended. They didn’t tell me whose funeral it was.

So, here is Paul, who is Jeff’s dad, and John, Jeannie’s husband, together on the other side. Paul begins by commenting on his funeral; he mentioned two people who were there by name, and something that he found to be humorous. Unfortunately, I can’t remember right now what that was, but when that message was conveyed, Jeff was blown right out of the water. There was a part of him that looked like it was jumping off the couch and running out the front door. I had to hold my composure because the look on his face was so funny; it was hard for me not to giggle. The women were slightly entertained watching all of this because they had already been initiated by their own experiences months before, and they knew what to expect.

Suddenly, the energy shifted. I could feel a huge gathering of people to my right – people usually stand on my left. In the forefront of that group was a man with two blond women, one on each arm, and he was dangling some car keys, and focusing on Joey. Now, at this point things become more than interesting. I’m sitting in the middle of a large group of people on my right, and Paul and John on my left. Then, there’s the audience before me. I felt as if we (me and those on the other side) were all on a stage, and they (the people on the couch) were our audience. I had no idea what was going on.

The guy with the blonds; “Hey Joey, I got your keys.” He might as well have been standing right beside me because I could hear every word. It’s not always like that for me. Things usually come in pictures first. At that point I did not convey the message. John came forward and began to communicate with Joey, and it was then that I realized that this was “Joey”! “Oh, you’re Joey who John asked for” I said. “Yeah.”

Well, now I wanted to know who this person was with the two blonds and the keys, so I told him, “There’s a guy here with a blond woman on each arm and he’s holding some keys saying, “I got your keys”. Joey laughed and didn’t say anything. He looked down and began wringing his hands a bit.

I have to know what’s going on now. I’m like crazy with curiosity, and I don’t have a clue, I mean I really don’t have a clue what’s actually happening in that room. And the truth is, it would be six more months before I did.

I asked Joey who the man was and what he was talking about. Joey told us that it was Ralph, and that Ralph had stolen his car--his brand new convertible when he had first gotten it. I asked about the blonds. Again, he looked down and got a little nervous. Ralph said, “It’s okay man” so I conveyed that. Joey proceeded to tell us that Ralph had two wives, at the same time, and that Joey was the only one that knew that. This was like the otherworldly version of Days of Our Lives. It was surely one of the most bizarre experiences I have ever had as a medium. And, it was absolutely delightful – every minute of it.

As our time together continued that evening, there were insights, tears, and laughter. Secrets were shared, things previously unknown were revealed, and Joey was set free from his responsibility as the keeper of the secrets. When the evening ended, I was filled to the brim with love, and I believe that was true for everyone who was there—on this side and the other.

It would be six months later, at a fundraiser in Southern California that I would unexpectedly meet other people connected to this group of family and friends, and the other members of the band that they had all been in together in the 1970’s. And those band members would have a message for me.

A Tale of Two Worlds Part 3: Calling From the Other Side

Calling From The Other Side

I want to begin by prefacing this part of the story with the fact that Jeannie and her two daughters had never had any type of reading, nor had they been to a psychic -- let alone a medium, so they weren't exactly in their comfort zones. Even so, their anticipation was filled with innocence and openness.

Jeannie’s husband, the father of these two lovely young women and the two teens upstairs, quickly made his presence known to me. I could feel his strength, his warmth, and his determination immediately. He was eager to communicate with his wife and daughters, even though before his death, he never would have fathomed that such a thing could be possible.

John had built a successful community business that the entire family worked in together. He had established a foundation of security for his family that was founded on love and strong family values. I could feel these characteristics in him, and I could see them in the three amazing women that sat before me.

At this point, I felt like I had already been on quite a journey with the exploration and discovery of the identity of the little girl. The beauty of that occurrence was that it took everyone beyond fear and hesitation, and created a wide-open space for communication to take place. And did it ever.

John came in loud and clear. I felt like he was the professional and I was the observer. When I think about it, over the next few years it was always like that with him. He had a very commanding presence that was coupled with a loving strength that was so profound it filled the room with notable warmth. I was impressed. I thought about how they must miss him; if he was this present from the other side how amazingly present must he had been in real life. Over time I came to learn that he was a loving husband, amazing dad, great friend, and solid community member.

He started out his communication with me by showing me a little rowboat, with two young children playing in and around it. I asked if anyone had been on a boat recently with two children. Maryann told me that she had two children, and that they had been to the shore, but not in a boat.

Jeannie smiled and looked at her and said, "You have that little boat in your front yard that you just painted last week". Maryann shared with me how she had been painting a little boat, planning to turn it into a planter, and it was in their front yard. The boat was only a few feet long, and when she was working on the boat the kids were playing in it and around it. Her dad was letting her know that he was there with them.

The three of them looked at each other in amazement,

as Maryann’s eyes filled with tears. This was their first personal experience of connecting with John on the other side. And, as the night went on, he showed me and told them one thing after another to confirm that he was not only present with them now in that room, but he was with all the time and he knew everything that was going on in their lives.

He showed me his slippers under Jeannie’s side of the bed, and the book he loved that she was reading that was sitting on the nightstand. He told me things about the brother and sister that were upstairs, and gave Jeannie suggestions of what to do to help their son, who was having such a hard time since his death two years prior.

He gave Barbara a lecture about her relationships choices, which made them all laugh, and then… he showed me what I thought was a gold pocket watch, although it was quite large.

I asked, “Who has the gold pocket watch?” The immediate response was that there was no gold pocket watch. Well, it was really clear to me. It was what appeared to be a very large, very gold pocket watch. They looked at one another trying to figure out who had the watch, and they were very sure that there wasn’t one. I held my hands together in a circle, making a space about the size of a extra large grapefruit, and I said, “It’s like this big, and it’s gold.” They all started laughing. They knew exactly what it was, but it wasn’t a pocket watch, it was a gold record.

John had been in a popular band in the sixties, and the band had attained a few gold records. This one in particular was for one of my favorite songs actually, and they had it there at the house. At this point in time, all three of them were completely comfortable. They each had a new found peace about John’s departure, and they were grateful for that.

The conversation continued for over two hours that evening, which is a long time to have that kind of communication with one person who is on the other side. John confirmed himself again and again, and now there was no separation between this side and the other, and no doubt to be found – everyone was connected.

Things were still and quiet now, and I thought we were finished when John said to me, “I want to talk to Joey”. The clarity with which he said it was as if he were sitting next to me on the chair. I listened and I didn’t say anything. He repeated, “I want to talk to Joey”.

So, I passed on the message. The three of them began to discuss where they might find Joey, who I learned was John’s good friend, and the was the drummer in the band.

"Bring Joey to me", were the last words that I heard from John. I passed them on.

It would be six months before I would see the family again.

A Tale of Two Worlds Part 2: If They Want to Talk to You - They Will Find a Way

It was a thirty minute ride to where we were going that evening, and it was dark. There's something about being in an unfamiliar place that appeals to me. I think it's because my mind is seeing things for the first time, so the process of relating to everything I see as what I expect it to be is diminished, and I am more open, curious, and receptive--more present with the moment.

The little girl stayed in the forefront of my mind, making her presence known to me until we arrived at our destination. When we got to the home of the family that I was about to meet, my attention moved away from the little girl and shifted to seeing where it was that we were. As we pulled into the driveway, the first thing I noticed about the house was that it seemed to glow with warmth and welcome. There was a feeling of "home", and it felt like it had been a home for a very long time.

We went inside and Dita introduced me to a woman about my age, and her two daughters who were in their early thirties. The mom, Jeannie, informed me that there was a teenage brother and sister upstairs who were choosing not to participate.

We walked into the living room, moved an arm chair for me to sit in, and positioned it so that I could face the three of them as they sat on an L-shaped couch. I felt very comfortable. They were lovely, and I could sense their curiosity, and their nervousness. The richness of this loving family and their history was oozing from the walls, so I took a moment to be still and feel all the stories that those walls embraced.

I looked before me, ready to see whoever it was that was going to show up, and guess who was there? The little girl with the doll. She stood firmly planted like a tree just staring at me. I asked them if someone had lost a little girl recently. The answer was, "No". I was beginning to feel like I was being held hostage by this child, and I knew that no one else was going to break through her determination, because she had an urgency about her, and her need to be recognized. I honored that.

I explained how she had shown up as soon as I had gotten into the car to come over there, and that until we figured out who she was nothing else was going to happen, and that they themselves must know her, or know someone who knows her, or she wouldn't be there.

After a about five minutes, one of the daughters said, "Oh my. One of my daughter's classmates died two weeks ago. She wasn't feeling well, and her mom came and got her from school, took her home and put her down for a nap, and at five o'clock, she went in to check on her and found her dead. That little girl was eight-years old." We had solved the mystery. It was her.

The little girl's energy shifted immediately, and I felt enormous waves of love coming from her---and she wanted that love to be delivered straight to her mom in the form of a verbal message--she wanted her mom to be told that she had come to them and told them that she was okay. So, I described the dress she was wearing, and her doll, so that her mom would know it was her when she got the message.

The daughter's started to freak out because they didn't actually know the little girl's mom, and "how would they tell her something like that"? They were afraid that they would scare her. They thought it would be too weird for them and to weird for her, for them to deliver "a message like that".

Fortunately, after a few minutes of talking about it, one of them finally promised to do it.

As soon as she made that promise, the little girl was gone.

But, the little girl is not really who this story is about...

A Tale of Two Worlds Part 1: The Journey Begins

I'm going to begin a story, which I will tell over the next bit of time, in several parts. I’m not sure how long it will take. This story spans over nearly four years of time, and involved several trips between the east and west coasts of the country.

My reason for telling this story is because it’s a perfect example of how the unseen influences of those we know and love are always with us, and how they are always at work in one way or another, on this side and the other.

My story begins with a visit from someone from New Jersey, who came to see me in Los Angeles for a reading. During her session with me an elderly woman who was on the other side, showed up about ten minutes into the session. At first, my client had no idea who the woman was.

The woman appeared quite bold in nature, and was talking about a ring, and about her granddaughter, and she was giving a lot of details that were making no sense whatsoever to my client. This was going on and on, and my client, Dita, was starting to become frustrated, because she felt like this woman was stealing her time.

The woman kept repeating the word, “liv” “live”. I thought she was telling Dita that she needed to live. It was beginning to get confusing when suddenly; I had the clearest visual experience of this woman standing there with a dishtowel over her left shoulder. I said, “This might sound really odd, but she has a dishtowel flung over her shoulder. Does that mean anything to you?”

Suddenly, Dita said, “Oh my God, that’s my friend Maria’s mother, and Olivia “Liv” is Maria’s daughter.” And “Maria actually buried her mother with a ring, and a dishtowel over her shoulder, because that was how she remembered her mom—always in the kitchen with the dishtowel thrown over her shoulder”.

The realization that it was her best friend’s mother coming through to her was so powerful that it moved both of us to tears.
All of what her friend’s mom had been trying to communicate was making sense to her. Although, a lot of what she told her, she had not known before, and that’s why it was so confusing for her.

The entire session was recorded. After leaving the session, Dita called Maria to tell her what had happened, and when she returned to NJ a few days later, she gave Maria the tape. After Maria listened to the tape, I got a phone call from her.

When I look back at what happened over the four years that followed, was absolutely mind-blowing. I witnesses a group of people from this side and the other, weaving in and out of time and space to communicate with one another; to heal a son who had lost his father, to give a wife the strength to know it would be okay for her to live a new life, to obscurely prepare a man for his departure to the other side, and so much more—as family, as friends, and as a community without the boundaries or limitations of the physical.

It is a story of great proportion to say the least, and I truly hope that I can do it justice in sharing it, because it is so poignant in revealing the truth that, life never ends, and that when people die, “they are still here”, as my wise son said at age seven.

After listening to the recording, Maria called me and told me, "you have to come to NJ, immediately". So, we arranged a time that I would be able to do that, and put it all into motion. It was about three weeks after that call that I flew to NJ. When I got there, Maria and Dita had a string of people who wanted sessions with me.
My first session of course, was with Maria, and it was her father who showed up for her first. He and his wife--Maria’s mom, had died within six weeks of each other.

All of the references he made in his communication with his daughter were related to horses, or horsemanship. I’m often surprised by some of the things that come out of my mouth, and also by the terminologies that I use that are not mine. Always when this happens, the person having the reading knows exactly that that’s “their person”, and these are the little things that insure those on the other side are being identified.

It turned out that Maria’s dad was called “Tex”, and his life was very much involved in the equine world. He talked a lot about Liv, and how he and grandma spent time with her every day. It was a very happy union, and Maria’s mom joined in at the end. Maria’s heart was put to rest.

That afternoon I was informed that I would be going to someone's house to do a reading, after dinner. I prefer that people don't tell me anything about who I'm meeting with, because I fear that it will influence me and get in the way of true communication, so all I knew was I was going to someone's house to read for a family.

By the time evening came, I was really tired. Dita had come to pick me up and drive me to the family’s house. As soon as I got into the car I laid my head back against the seat, and closed my eyes.

The instant I closed my eyes, I saw a little girl standing before me. She was about eight-years old, she had very straight light brown hair, just past her shoulders, and she was wearing a dress, and she was holding a doll. She was as clear as if she would have been physically standing there, and she just stood there, looking at me.

Usually when people come to me from the other side, I see them beside me. This little girl was right in front of me, clear as day.

I asked Dita if the people who I was going to see had lost a daughter. She said, "No."

A few Pictures of Spencer

I've gotten several requests for me to post pictures of Spencer. I just figured out to do that on the blog.   So, here are some pics...

Age 5

When Spencer was five-years old, one day I was crying and he came up to me and said, "Mom, you need to meditate." I said, "I do meditate." "No Mom, this is why I came here--to help you, and you need to meditate. This is why I'm here." I knew that what he meant was that I needed to go deeper, be more serious, and more disciplined. It was always like this with him when he was little...

He was a little guru to me--so wise and so beautiful.

His endless green eyes - so open and full of life.

His cute little cheeks and strong little body; he loved his body. He loved to test his body's limits. He was born in the year of Monkey in Chinese astrology, and little monkey he could be...

Age 12

Age 27

The Essence of Eternity

This was sent to me by my friend Lee --


A passage from the book -- The Red Tent by Anita Diamont:

In Egypt, I loved the perfume of the Lotus. A flower would bloom in the pool at dawn, filling the entire garden with a blue musk so powerful it seemed that even the fish and ducks would swoon. By night, the flower might wither, but the perfume lasted--fainter and fainter, but never quite gone. Even many days later, the Lotus remained in the garden. Months would pass and a bee would alight near the spot where the Lotus had blossomed, and its essence was released again; momentary but undeniable.

Egypt loved the Lotus because it never dies. It is the same for the people who are loved. Thus can something as insignificant as a name—two syllables, one high, one sweet—summon up the innumerable smiles and tears, sighs and dreams of a human life.

If you sit on the bank of a river, you see only a small part of its surface. And yet, the water before your eyes is proof of unknowable depths. My heart brims with thanks for the kindness you have shown me by sitting on the bank of this river, by visiting the echoes of my name.

Blessings on your eyes and on your children. Blessings on the ground beneath you. Wherever you walk, I go with you.