I can’t believe it’s been a whole week since my last post. Perhaps I needed a break to let the full impact of my reading with a medium sink in. I always knew in my heart he survived and was embracing a new life on the other side but to have it confirmed in such uncertain terms by someone who knew nothing about him and who gave me so much evidence that it was undeniable, takes it to another level. What is also wonderful is that it finally confirms it from believing to knowing. My grand mother, in all the times she popped in when I was having readings, never gave such precise information that could confirm without a shadow of a doubt that it was her. And much to my sorrow, none of my aunts did either. Dad did. Thank you Dad. Your performance was outstanding.
I took the risk of sharing snippets of it with my fiance (none of my loved ones believe in life after death) and he said my interest in the afterlife was unhealthy. This did not surprise me. We don’t have to agree on everything. After all, he thinks like the majority of people. But what fascinates me is that he wants to know but he doesn’t so he is constantly torn between curiosity and perhaps some deep seated superstition that come from hearsay. He says he is open minded but frankly I don’t think so. Not in this respect anyway because he didn’t do the only thing that to me indicates that he would be open minded which is: to try it and make up his own mind. He says he has his own mind and he sits on the fence. In a way, I think I take a more scientific approach than him because most of my beliefs have been tested. And tested some more. I have what one would call a healthy skepticism but because I have kept my open mind and tried and listened to “the other side” – the crowd of people who live with the dead on a daily basis – I now know that they tell the truth.
There is no way I am going to mention this to my mother. She would probably send me to a priest to have me exorcised. After all, she considers that illness and suffering are God’s will. When I saw a medium after my grand mother’s death thirteen years ago, she demanded that I speak to someone who would put me straight. Supposedly a wise and saintly woman who suffers a lot (why I am getting an allergic reaction?) but who never complains. My grand mother used to do that: she would shut us up by reciting a list of all the things we suffered as if it made her more special than us and more worthy. I think that’s a side effect of the teachings of the Roman Catholic church and it’s emphasis on sacrifice and suffering. Yuck! And neither my mother nor my grand mother are religious. It does confirm to me that it does not matter if you are religious or not, when you are born in a culture that has been so massively impacted and influenced by one religion, you espouse its principles whether you go to church or not. Or as it stands in the case of my mother and grand mother, its bigotry and superstitions.
I realised just how much one can be influenced by religious beliefs when living in a country when I lived abroad for one year at the age of seventeen. I was doing a gap year in Finland and I was struck by how influential Catholicism was on the French culture and Protestantism on the Finnish culture even on people who claimed not to be religious. You learn an awful lot about your own culture when you are exposed to the habits of another country. I highly recommend it.
And yet, it is these superstitions that are keeping people from experiencing a sense of peace. It’s certainly no short cut for grief because we are left behind and we can’t hug them and talk to them anymore. And if they did go “before their time” (the jury is still out on this one) we can’t help asking ourselves why. But knowing that they are happy and being able to resolve unfinished business with them if there is, is surely worth taking a little risk. Isn’t it? Even my Dad said so. He, the devout catholic, acknowledge the medium and thanked both of us for making the communication possible for him.
Blessings
Ange de Lumiere
We are all going to die one day 