Channeling Erik®
  • Grief
  • December4th

    44 Comments

    Now that I’m almost finished with using sessions for gathering material for the next book, I’m going to start channeling famous figures again. This time, Erik will be asking the questions because I don’t want him to be excluded from the interview. After all, it is “Channeling Erik.” I’ve randomly picked a few for you to choose from, although I have all of your suggestions on the list. I won’t be adding any more to that list because there are 450+ on it. I won’t live long enough to get through them all! Here’s the poll. 

    On another note, I tried yoga for the first time (probably because my workout club offers it for free!) and something weird happened. I started crying. I had to stifle back sobs to keep from breaking the focus of the others who were taking the class. Any thoughts as to why that would happen? Have any of you experienced something like this? 

    Now for today’s post:

    To lose a loved one is pure agony. When you lose a child, your grief is compounded exponentially. When you lose that child to suicide, your grief is multiplied to unbearable levels. When that suicide is violent, you become a POW in a private war, tortured mercilessly day after day. In my desire to show solidarity to those who grieve, know I understand how drastically life changes for you and how you feel nothing will every be the same as “before.”

    After Erik’s death, friends, family and neighbors were there for us in ways that are immeasurably loving. But death is a very uncomfortable beast for most, so the calls and visits are long gone. Most of my days are spent drowning in a deep loneliness by no fault but my own. I have chosen to become a recluse. Arms that once reached out to others are now withdrawn for fear of drawing back bloody nubs. When I do venture out into the public, I fight to keep on a brave front, smiling, laughing at jokes, sharing casual stories, but I’m constantly aware of the fact that I’m hiding beneath a fragile façade. Behind the soft grin is that ever-present lump in my throat as I fight to choke back the tears. Behind the cheery exterior lurks a bottomless sense of profound sorrow that has become my constant companion. When I go to sleep, my last thoughts are that Erik is dead. When I wake up, my first thoughts are the same. Never, never is there a moment when I’m not acutely aware of my loss.

    I recoil at the thought of those “looks” from others, a mix of pity and horror. I watch the uncomfortable squirming, the shifting from one foot to another, the lack of eye contact, all part of that person’s desire to get away from me—the mother who has lost a child to a violent act of suicide. They don’t dare mention Erik’s name, and for me, that’s like watching him die again—day after day after day. In short, I feel like a leper living in a colony of one.

    You see, I do understand you. That’s why I share your pain as well. Were it not for you, my virtual friends, life would be impossible to bear. Each member in my loving family grieves in their own personal way, so sharing our sadness only opens up raw wounds, and I want be their source of support, not pain. So I’d like to thank you for giving me a safe place to vent the anguish I can’t share with friends and family, and know that this is a place that you can do the same.

    That’s why this email from Shelly, courtesy of Compassionate Friends, struck a deep chord in me. Share this with others if you can. Know that I am here for you, and I’m grateful you’re here for me.

    WHAT WE WISH OTHERS UNDERSTOOD ABOUT THE LOSS OF OUR CHILD

    1. I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child’s name. My child lived and was important, and I need to hear his name.
    2. If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you have hurt me; the fact that my child died has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry, and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.
    3. I wish you wouldn’t “kill” my child again by removing from your home his pictures, artwork, or other remembrances.
    4. I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good day my grief is all over, or that if I have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling.
    5. I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately. It is the ultimate tragedy, and I wish you wouldn’t compare it to your loss of a parent, a spouse, or a pet.
    6. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me.
    7. I wish you knew that all of the “crazy” grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.
    8. I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for us. As with alcoholics, I will never be “cured” or a “former bereaved parent,” but will forevermore “be a recovering bereaved parent.”
    9. I wish you understood the physical reactions to grief. I may gain weight or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses, and be accident prone-all of which may be related to my grief.
    10. Our child’s birthday, the anniversary of his death, and holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are thinking about our child on these days, and if we get quiet and withdraw, just know that we are thinking about our child and don’t try to coerce us into being cheerful.
    11. It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values, and beliefs after losing a child. We will question things we have been taught all our lives and hopefully come to some new understanding with our God. I wish you would let me tangle with my religion without making me feel guilty.
    12. I wish you wouldn’t offer me drinks or drugs. These are just temporary crutches and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal.
    13. I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I never will be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to “get back to my old self,” you will stay frustrated. I am a new creature with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values, and beliefs. Please try to get to know the new me-maybe you’ll like me still.

    I believe that instead of sitting around and waiting for our wishes to come true, we have an obligation to tell people some of the things we have learned about our grief. We can teach these lessons with great kindness, believing that people have good intentions and want to do what is right, but just don’t know what to do with us.

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    Grief Changes Us-1

     

  • November20th

    9 Comments

    Many of you, including me, have signed up for the upcoming webinar slated to take place December 17th at 6:00 PM EST. To give you a taste, here’s the first one. Since this one, Jamie has improved the audio, and the video isn’t small screen anymore. Due to another glitch, you have to move forward to timestamp 30:00 to go to the start of the event. To join, click on the link below. Be sure to think of a question to ask him!

    Ho-Ho Holiday Web Channeling with Erik
    Wednesday, December 17 from 6-7 PM EST
    Cost is $20
    Register HERE

    In several previous posts, Erik has discussed ways that we can help mitigate the grief we feel after we lose someone dear in our life. Here, he shares how we can help them.

    Me: What makes our deceased loved ones happy? What can we do to help them?

    (Pause as Erik thinks a bit)

    Erik: I got it! Live-Your-Own-Life.

    Me: Okay.

    Jamie: He’s saying it real slow like people are retarded.

    Me: Erik!

    Erik: That’s not why! I’m just trying to make a point, an important point. They’re not retarded. They’re my friends!

    Me: Oh, okay. Good, we’ll let you off the hook then.

    Erik and Jamie chuckle.

    Me: I can be a little retarded sometimes, though. So, is that it, then? Is that the only thing we can do?

    Erik: No, really. You live your own life. It’s great to include us in memories. I’m not saying they should totally make us disappear, but don’t forget to live life. Don’t live your human life based on our death or the memory of it. That’s horrible. It makes us sad. Like don’t buy cookies because it’s our favorite ones. That’s really nice, but let that be a memory for you. Don’t buy the cookies because you know we like those cookies; cuz I can get whatever fucking cookie I want any time I want. Buy the cookies you like.

    Jamie and I laugh.

    Me: Well, I’m sure that’s true, and you probably already have gorged on plenty of them. I wish we had the low calorie ones over here too.

    (God, I’m really starving for homemade Tollhouse chocolate cookies now. Sigh.)

    Erik: Yeah, I do eat ‘em all the time. That and ice cream!

    Me: Lucky boy. Mint chocolate chip used to be your favorite.  So what about just sending love? Does that really help the energy of our deceased loved ones?

    Erik: Okay, look. If we have a really rough passing—

    Me: Um hm.

    Erik: Okay. I was just speaking in general, across the board what makes us happy. If y’all are happy, we’re happy. Period.

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: But if there’s a traumatic passing or a hardship right before the passing or right after, then love and attention—like in a prayer or an intent, a statement, a shout out—yeah, we absorb that and that helps us transition.

    Me: Oh yeah. I can imagine.

    Erik had both of these: a difficult like and a violent, traumatic death. Looking back, I was so consumed by grief that I did’t send him any of this: no prayer, no intent, no love. How I regret that now.

    Videos like this make me miss him so much, but it also makes me realize that there were good times. It’s funny how we humans focus on the tragic more than the happy. Why do we let ourselves suffer so much?

  • November11th

    14 Comments

    Oh, how well I know the pain of grief. Many of you have come to the blog because you’ve lost someone you love. It helps to know that there’s no true separation and that they’re the same, only without a body. Let’s see what Erik has to add.

    Me: Do you have any advice to those who have lost loved ones and are just so stricken by grief?

    Erik: Remember, grief is really selfish.

    Wow, this made my heart sink, because that means I am One Selfish Bitch.

    Erik: They need to look at what part of themselves they feel is not being heard.

    Me: Oh! Hmm.

    Erik: Because if they weren’t selfish when someone died, they could understand that it was that person’s journey. It wasn’t about them.

    Me: I think a lot of them just don’t know what the transition is all about and that Home is our real reality. And even when we do, oh, how it still hurts.

    Erik: Well, I think some people get into grief, and they enjoy how people react to them, and so they play the victim to get all that pampering energy. Then they get stuck in it. Of course, others, like you, Mom, grief because you feel such love.

    (Long pause)

    Me: Yeah. Anything advice on how to manage?

    Erik: When you lose a loved one, it’s not about putting your chin up and playing tough either. Of course there are going to be moments of awareness that you’re not with them anymore. But as soon as you get there—you need to think about really where they are, because I’m telling you, we feel EVERYTHING you give out.

    Me: Mmm.

    Erik: Mom, I feel what you’re thinking about me; I feel what the neighbor up the street said about me. It gets to me. Goes straight to me. So imagine when a person dies, they lose everyone in their entire life.

    Me: Oh, yeah!

    Erik: They’ve lost it all. They’ve lost it all, and now what they get from everybody is grief. Granted there are one or two people who go, “I love you, and you’re all right,” and those words mean the world to us. I like that you do that for me, Mom.

    Me: Oh, yeah. Of course I’m happy for you. I know you were miserable here, and I’d rather you be happy all the time and me be miserable from time to time than for both of us to be miserable here because of your pain.

    Erik: Yeah cuz just imagine, Mom. You’re dead and you feel like shit cuz everybody’s grieving, and you feel everyone’s sorrow.

    Me: Oh, how awful.

    Erik: And then you have to work extra hard not to make them cry. You find out right when you get next to them, they feel you and it triggers them to fall apart. You feel like you’re cursed in a way. I’ve seen it play out again and again and again.

    Me: Yeah, absolutely.

    (Somber pause as I feel extra sorry for my baby boy. Sigh.)

    Me: How do you multitask so well, Erik? I can’t imagine how you can listen to everybody, hearing their thoughts, their feelings. Oh my god.

    Erik: I know, I know, it’s totally crazy! But it’s not like we do it in the human sense. The messages don’t line up so you get one at a time like on an answering machine. It just breezes right through your body, your spirit body, and you know exactly what it is.

    Me: It’s like on Bruce Almighty where the guy, you know, Jim Carrey, gets all those instant messages on his computer from everyone in the world. It gets to be too much for him!

    Jamie: Bruce Almighty, that’s right.

    Me: So it’s not like that, then.

    Erik: Yeah, they don’t just line up and wait for ya.

    Me: Yep. Okay, what about advice for those considering suicide. We’ve talked about this before, but it’s been quite a while ago, because you know you paint a pretty picture of the afterlife. You make dying seem fun.

    Jamie: He does.

    Me: I know.

    Erik: Oh, it’s not all milk and cookies.

    Me: No.

    Erik: It’s like, if you’re a dick—

    Jamie giggles with embarrassment at having to translate this.

    Jamie: God, Erik!

    Erik: If you’re a dick, and you die because you’re a dick, you’re gonna wake up dead as a dick.

    Me: Oh yeah, okay. Not getting a pretty visual, but go ahead.

    Erik: You’re gonna have to work through your own shit. Now there are those cases where someone commits suicide, and they did it NOT as a last resort. Not to be punny, but they jump the gun.

    Me: Oh boy. Okay.

    Erik: And in those cases where they just gave up, surrendered and left, there are all these people left on earth who are meant to interact with them. That’s when the suicide soul has to figure out a way to connect with all the people who are alive and still get them to meet that mark that they would have if the suicide soul was still living.

    Me: Exactly. The spiritual contract still has to play out.

    Erik: You have to play ‘em. You have to keep ‘em, and do you know how hard that is? They thought it was hard when they were alive? Just screw that. It’s way more difficult when you’re dead.

    Me: Yeah, but what’s it to them? They could say, “Eh, who cares. If the contracts don’t get honored, we’ll just do it next time.” I mean, a lifetime is just a blink of the eye from the perspective of an eternal soul.

    Erik: No, no. They have to complete things first before there’s a next time.

    Me: Okay, so if a person feels such hopelessness that they’re considering suicide, how do they hold on?

    Erik: They who? The dicks?

    Me: Yeah, or anyone in that dark place. Now, I’m not talking about the rare ones like you where suicide is part of their destiny or the ones who are terminally ill or the ones where it’s a real exit point for them.

    Erik: So, you’re talking about the ones who jump the gun?

    Me: Yeah, them. How can they hold off?

    Erik: Well, there’s not really gonna be a straightforward answer across the board, but the best thing to do is—you tell people when they’re sitting at that moment before they swallow those pills or jump off the chair or pull the trigger, they have to think. They have to be able to—

    (Long pause)

    Jamie: Hold on. I’m trying to get him to say it in one sentence.

    (Long pause)

    Jamie: He kind of rambled around.

    (Pause)

    Erik: They have to be able to accept the responsibility of leaving. It’s just that simple. And if there’s any doubt or hesitation—even a tiny, tiny bit—that’s when you know they’re going to soon. They need to stay.

    Jamie (to Erik): So you can base it on the feeling of doubt?

    Erik: Yes. That’s the one emotion I can think about, because a lot of people get there, and then they say, “Well, I don’t REALLY want to die, but I really wanna piss off Christine. I want Christine to suffer, so I’m just gonna go ahead and do it.” But if they themselves have doubt, that’s called jumping the gun.

    Me: Wow. Did you have doubts seconds before?

    Erik: No. I tried before and I had doubts, but not this time.

    Oh, how I wish he had had strong doubts, enough to ease off the pressure on that trigger and come to me for help.

    Erik: And I can’t tell you how many people knock themselves off and think, “Holy shit. What the hell did I do that for? Dammit, now I just have to do this all over again!” Denise went through that.

    Me: That’s true. After she died, I channeled her through Kim O’Neill, and she was pissed at herself for committing suicide.

    Erik: Yep. Without fail, suicides come here feeling totally embarrassed, cuz they see how the earthly plane is just a freaking school play, and they were only playing a role.

    Me: It’s so hard to see the forest from the trees when your knee-deep in drama, though.

    Erik: Yeah, but all they do is add more drama in their wake. And they have to suffer along with the ones who are in grief. It’s not easy. But one day, humans will see death differently. They’ll see it for what it really is—a stage exit you go through after you play your part.

  • August26th

    27 Comments

    This repost is about respite. A break from the grief of losing someone we love. A break from being mired in daily struggle. A break from being human. This is the first time Erik spoke to me without the need of a question prompt. He spoke with solemn passion. How timely.

    Erik: You know, Mom, before you ask me a question, I want to talk to you about people who want to take their own life. In some cases, the stress, the grief, whatever builds up, it’s like a volcano. Only so much can build before it has to release. The lesson in each case is that there is perfection in imperfection.

    Me: Mm hm.

    (Long pause)

    Jamie: He’s pausing. Erik, I can see that.

    Me: What? Is he picking his nose?

    Jamie (sounding touched): No. His eyes are tearing up.

    Me: Oh, Sweetie. It’s okay.

    Jamie: He’s just kind of readjusting his gestures and how he’s sitting so that he’s really not squared off with me; we’re not looking at each other face to face.

    (Pause)

    Jamie (to Erik): But, you know, I can see that you’re adjusting. I can see. I can see.

    Erik: Well, it’s hard …

    (Pause)

    Jamie (to Erik, in a warm, motherly tone): Take a deep breath. You don’t always have to be the fast talker.

    Me: Yeah, Sweetie. Take your time.

    Jamie (with a soft chuckle): I don’t mind a pause.

    Erik: It just throws me right back into my human state of mind—right back into my body—and I haven’t shaken hands with those demons in a long time.

    Me: Yeah, I know.

    Erik: And I’m happy not to shake hands with them anymore, but when you’re human, you think you have the power to override them—the internal thoughts, those crazy horses in your head that just run with ideas and thoughts that actually hold no truth. But because the thoughts are so heavy, they feel incredibly real, and we start to validate them as real and they’re not. It’s within this slice of anxiety, madness, grief, this really imbalanced state of mind and heart—that’s the imperfection that makes us perfect.

    Me: Not sure if I understand, but…

    Erik: In so many people who want to take their life, it’s just about getting out of the body, not an act or a willingness to die. It might be nice, ya know? First hand, I kinda know that experience.

    Me (solemnly): Yeah.

    Erik: A lot of times those people might be worried that they couldn’t do everything they wanted or needed to do, desired to. But then right before, they get this peace and calm, knowing that everything is going to be all right. All of a sudden, they know it’s all going to be okay. Really at that moment, they already left the body.

    Me: Oh!

    Erik: A lot of people I see that are headed toward the answers, committing suicide, attempting suicide, ending their life, they just need out of their body just for a certain moment. A lot of times they do that before they get a chance to follow through, and then they back down.

    Me: They just need a rest. A rest from being human.

    Erik: Yeah. And when people struggle to that point, like I said, many times it’s about the perfection of imperfection.

    Me: What do you mean by that? I just don’t understand.

    (Pause)

    Erik: Our perfectness is composed of a huge percentage of things that just aren’t’ right.

    Jamie (giggling): He kind of puts that in air quotes.

    Erik: I know there’s no right or wrong—there just “is”, but as humans, the brain has a hell of a hard time relaxing in that state of mind. It’s almost like we enjoy struggle more than we enjoy peace. And all of humanity has to learn this lesson for us to achieve it—to make it a natural state of being. Peace. That’s what our generations to come might experience, but for now, we’re still in a natural state of being in struggle. Our natural state of being as a human is based on being in a constant struggle. Even when you’re calm, you’re thinking, “How long is this going to last?” “When I get out of this, then I have to face that shit, and then I have to manage that crap over there.” You know, it’s still all fucked up, but you’re going to have these pockets of peace. We’re getting through all of this as humanity. Everyone has to learn to turn the dial on the emotional, mental, spiritual level from chaos and struggle to peace and calm. Until we do that, you know, we’re all attached to each other—we’re all antennas. And we can get those incredibly enlightened people, loving people, people who are aware, and their antenna inside their body just starts to pick up all the struggle and the chaos. And they don’t want it. Just like you, Mom. And some of those people just want a break from being human. But this whole media, vulnerability, kind of openness that you and I have gone through—it was done in a way to save other people but not you. And I know you’ll come soon enough and see how you can save yourself. And how you do that will not stop the openness, the storytelling, because we—

    Jamie (to Erik): Who’s we? (To me) You and him.

    Me: Okay.

    Erik: We cannot even count how many people we’ve touched nor how many people that we have taught. So, now that they’re more knowledgeable and can heal through their grief and not leave this world as it’s changing—that absolutely is extremely valuable and extremely important, but never, ever more important than you. I hope knowing that helps.

    Me: Aw. I love you, Erik.

    Erik: I love you more.

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  • August19th

    23 Comments

    Loss, Part One

    Posted in: Grief, Loss

    I want to remind everyone about  Jamie’s next webinar class. Personally, I think it’s one of the most important subjects in all things spiritually because so many ailments, physical or otherwise, can be healed through crystals. Like I said earlier, each one has their own vibrational frequency, and, since we’re energy too, they can affect our frequency. All types of energy can. For those of you who missed the post dated 8/14, let me explain it using a tuning fork as an example. If you bang it on the table and then hold it against a glass of water, the water starts to ripple. So crystals can help your mental, physical and emotional health, which pretty much covers it all. Especially considering the paltry price compared to its benefits, this class is well worth it.

    Here’s the information:

    Using Crystals for Vibrational Healing – A Web Class with Jamie Butler
    Wednesday, August 20 at 6 PM EDT
    Please go here to learn more and register.

    By the way, guys, I’m so, so excited about the next book. It’s coming along amazingly, and I’m so proud of Erik for the job he’s doing. I can’t tell you what it’s about, but I will tell you it has “movie” written all over it. Erik must be excited, too, because after I work a few hours, then go outside to take a break, a black dragon hovers around me. I like that a lot better than the fruit flies we came back to after our vacation. Dang, those things are hard to get rid of, and it pisses me off when one lands on my computer screen because I always get fooled into trying to wipe off what I think is a little spot. It’s a complete waste of perfectly good spit. 

    Now, this next topic covers something we’ve all grappled with at one point in our lives. Loss is not pretty, except when you want a fruit fly loss. 

    Me: Let’s talk about loss. We have so many losses in our lives, and there are so many types of loss like the loss of health, self-esteem, status, faith, etc. Erik, what kind of loss do you want to discuss?

    Erik: All loss is the same, really, Mom. It just plays out in different ways.

    Robert: It’s really wild that you’re asking this question because just the other day, Erik said, “Dude, I want to talk about fear and love.”

    Me: Mm.

    Erik:  “So here’s the thing about loss. Loss feels so painful, because… Actually, let me start with one other thing. What makes loss painful is attachment. Attachment to a person being there. Whatever.

    Me: The absence of whatever.

    Erik: Yeah. We’re still attached to whatever it is that’s absent and that’s what creates that hole.

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: It could be the death of someone, divorce, a relationship that ends, but here’s the interesting thing. Attachment can be rooted in fear or negative emotions, which then create negative feelings within ourselves or give us the opportunity to feel them, but attachment also is something that love, itself, can create. You have a choice. When you’re faced with a loss, it’s giving you a choice, and the choice is, “Am I going to keep raking my ass over the coals, to wallow in whatever I’m feeling and become stagnant or more importantly, to become comfortable in it.”

    Me: Hmm.

    Erik: And if you choose to do that, it shows who and how you are in that moment. That’s fucked up. But you also have another choice. You can choose to take that loss, recognize that that attachment is now detached from your experience and detach from it and choose to attach to something else that allows you to move on.

    Me: For example?

    Erik: Well, let’s use my example. All of the different things that happened the day you found out that I died and afterwards, for a period of time, for a while, we were attached to the grief that was caused by that because we needed to feel it and to suffer until we got to the point—I say  “we,” but I mean you, Mom, and the whole family and me, too.

    Me: You felt the grief, too?

    Erik: Fuck! Yes. Yes!

    Me: Aww. The grief over what? What did you lose? What did you grieve over?

    Erik: I felt good in the sense that I feel okay now, and I was released from that hell—life was a rollercoaster from hell sometimes—but I saw how my family suffered and I thought, ‘Man, that’s like a big pile of shit.’

    Me: It is.

    Erik: I’m so glad because now, you and Pappa and everybody are in the process of healing. I can’t say you’re completely healed…

    Me: Uh uh.

    Erik: But, you know, you are in the process, right?

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: So, when we go back to the topic that you’ve experienced loss, and you’re attached to that loss and now you have these shitty feelings, you have to wallow in it for a while. You have to decide for yourself when you’re no longer willing to allow yourself to feel that way in a way that connects with the heart. You have to ask, “Am I willing to continue to be mean to myself? Am I going to stop being unloving to myself and start being loving to myself?” The steps that we take to detach from that sense of loss and reattach to something else’s that’s more loving is by going out into the world and pursuing things that are going to allow us to feel happier. The happier feelings or the more positive feelings are the things that provide the contrast to the loss itself. Instead of sucking the life from you, they’re infusing you with life.

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  • June25th

    39 Comments

    Announcement: If you go to Patrick’s site, The Amendment (www.theamendment.net) then you’ll find all sorts of interesting interviews including those of controversial historic figures who shall remain nameless. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. (hint, hint)

    Very often, I receive really, really long emails from readers. That’s no problem because most of the are interesting, but I’ve struggle with reading since Erik died. For some reason, I can’t track across a page well. I try, but my eyes go from words on one line then skip to words on another line. I can only get the gist of the text and probably miss a lot of the content. I also have had problems with timelines. If someone asks me when I saw so-and-so last, I wouldn’t be able to tell him or her if it was days, weeks or months ago. I can barely remember what happened before Erik’s death and what happened after it, and that’s pretty much how time is defined for me. PTSD causes all sorts of cognitive dysfunctions. Hopefully, my brain will slowly rewire itself. If you have PTSD for whatever reason, please share your experiences. What cognitive functions have been impaired? How long have you had this problem? Has it improved? If so, over what time period and to what degree. 

    I think I posted this before, but again, my memory has really taken a hit since Erik’s death. I spend around 4 hours of a day answering emails, and I enjoy reading them. The problem is that I keep my replies very, very short because I just don’t have time to do otherwise. This also applies to answering both blog and Facebook comments directed toward me, Facebook private messages, Google chats, etc. It comes off as rude, but I want everyone to know that this doesn’t mean I don’t love you and take an interest in what you write. Sometimes I’ll add a smiley face so you don’t think I’m too much of a bitch.

    Okay, enough rambling. I guess it’s time for the main event.

    Robert: Erik makes me laugh sometimes!

    Robert translates what Erik said.

    Erik: So, dude, what’s the difference between being assertive and being an asshole?

    Robert: I don’t know. What?

    Erik: They both start with the word, “ass.”

    Robert and I laugh.

    Robert: Well assertive means confident.

    Erik: Yeah, and that’s what I’m saying about it. Sometimes I don’t even like to use the word, “confident” or any other word that starts with “con”, because what’s the first three letters? C-O-N. Con. Think of the word, “Con.” It’s like you’re being taken. People have certain words that they associate with different meanings. They don’t pick up on the negativity, but when you think about it, when someone is being assertive, they’re usually going to be looked at by somebody in a negative way.

    Me: Yeah, it’s almost like you’re wielding some kind of power over that person.

    Erik: Yeah, and some people think that person’s being an asshole, but when you say you’re confident, that brings a different kind of meaning. What label you put on yourself may be looked at as a different label to the other person. That’s why I hate fucking labels. They’re just words. They don’t tell you jack shit about the intent or emotions behind them. They also open things up to judgment. I think the best word to use to remove judgmental labeling or whatever is “certainty.” When you’re confident, you are certain.

    Me: Yeah, when you use the label, “assertive,” it’s like you’re sparring with the other person, but with the other word, “certainty,” it’s you, alone.

    Robert: These are the kind of discussions that Erik and I have. Oh, and Erik tells me something else that’s important to bring up. (Laughing) The other thing he brought up, because I needed to laugh, I was lying on the floor doing some meditation to get ready for our session and refocus myself, and I was doing some of that chanting that we learned during the weekend in Austin.

    Me: Oh, yeah.

    Robert: So, I got to a point where Erik said, “Okay, dude. You don’t have to keep doing that anymore. Just be quiet,” and I was like, ‘Okay. Yeah,’ and then he said, “Just do what you do when you have sex. Just lie there.”

    Robert and I howl in laughter.

    Robert: I said, ‘Erik, you are just so wrong for that!’ I thought it was funny. He says some of the most inappropriate things, but I still think it’s funny.

    Me: It’s hilarious!

    Erik: Enough chitchat.

    Robert: I guess he wants us to get to work!

    We go on to interview Farrah Fawcett.

     

  • June5th

    12 Comments

    Blog member, Daniel Lucas, created the masterpiece below. How, I don’t know, but it gives me such a sense that we’re all family, connected. If you’d like a picture of yourself in the image, please send a good quality, bright photo to him at daniel-lucas95@hotmail.com. Thanks, Daniel!

    The Family

    The Family

    This is the continuation of Erik’s description of his death and the events that occurred in the moments that followed.

    Erik: Then I felt pulled. It felt like I was being pulled from the back of my shoulders. Not pushed, but, it’s kind of what I would imagine water being moved up a straw would feel like.

    (Pause)

    Erik: It wasn’t like being abducted by aliens. You know like a UFO hovers over you and they like sssllrrrruuup (sucking sound), get sucked up. It wasn’t like that.

    Jamie (laughing): Erik, you’re so creative! He’s showing me the motion of being pulled backwards.

    Erik: It’s like being dragged out of the sea by your life jacket with one of those boat hooks. And the distance is about the same as from the water to the boat. It wasn’t very far. Maybe a few feet. It’s not like I went up, up, up into the sky.

    Me: Uh huh.

    Erik: I kinda expected that, though. But that didn’t happen. And it wasn’t like I got pulled into a different room. It’s like the room I was in began to change. It’s like when kids draw chalk on the sidewalk and then you take a hose to it or the rain comes and gently washes it away. It becomes a clean sidewalk again. The room I was in gently washed away, and I was in a different room.

    Me: Hmm. But did you come back to see when I came upstairs and came into your room? Anything like that?

    Erik: I know you were there. But really, that seems like 15 minutes after if happened.

    Me: Okay. Yes, that’s exactly when I came up to your room. So you were pulled away by your shoulders, and the room gently washes away. So when do you see me and then the police?

    Erik: Well, I saw it sorta from a different vantage point. It’s not like I was standing in the room.

    Jamie: Erik, how do I explain what you’re showing me?

    Erik: It’s not like I’m watching a TV. It’s not like I’m removed in that way. I was a part of it; I see myself in the room, but I’m not really part of that room at all anymore. It’s really hard to explain it in words, Mom.

    Me: Like you were behind the veil?

    Erik: Yeah, Sorta like that! You know how you can put a sheet over your body, but you can still see through it, but you’re pretending that nobody can see you?

    Me: Oh, yeah!

    Erik: That’s kinda how I viewed what took place.

    Me: How did that scene make you feel? Was it difficult to watch?

    Erik: At first I was a little confused why you were crying. I knew the police had to be there, but I really couldn’t have told you why. I just knew they had to be there. I knew it was right. But yeah, it was very painful for me to watch you break down like that. It was horrible, the most painful thing I’ve ever had to bear. I really didn’t think about how you would react. All I thought about was how I could get relief.

    Me: Well, we called them, you know, the Hedwig Village Police. Maria told us she heard a gun shot so we turned the car around and drove like a bat out of hell back, and we called 911. (Explaining to Jamie): Since we live in a small village inside Houston and have our own police department, they came right away. In fact, they almost beat us there.

    Jamie (giggling): He’s laughing that you called the village.

    Erik: Once that was taken care of, I saw my body being zipped up. Then it was carried out, but I can’t really explain where it went after that.

    Me: Well I guess at that point you didn’t follow it. You probably didn’t have much of an attachment to your body, an emotional attachment, I mean.

    Erik: Yeah, none. It’s like you always told me when I was growing up that I wasn’t my body, that my soul was separate from it.

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: Then, I remember the Light. It was really, really bright to look at, but there wasn’t any tunnel. No tunnel.

    Me: Okay, so the tunnel was probably just the physiologic thing you were talking about before?

    Erik: Yes.

    Me: You probably died so instantly, that there was no period of slow oxygen deprivation to that part of the brain that causes the tunnel effect. Okay, so then after you saw the Light, what happened?

    Erik: After I was pulled away, watched the scene, and then my body got carried away?

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: Well, for a while I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t go out into the yard or anything. So that’s when I started to check on people I knew.

    Me: Okay. Living people or deceased?

    Erik: Oh, the living.

    (Long pause)

    Me: For exaaaammmple? Miiiilking the cow, miiiilking the cow! (Coaxing more information from his was like pulling teeth!)

    Jamie: He’s showing me this image; it’s almost like going through a book.

    Me: Oh, okay.

    Jamie: you know, you flip one page, you see that person. You flip another page, you go see somebody else. He saw one of the friends. Male. A male friend that was close to him. Dark hair.

    Me: Sean, Valentin, Jonathan?

    Jamie: Does Valentin have a nickname?

    Me: I don’t know. Frenchie, maybe? He was French. Anyway, he was the guy who hung out with Erik a lot during the last year of his life.  One activity they enjoyed together was target shooting at the gun range. Erik was too young to buy a gun, and we didn’t even know he had one. Apparently, he traded in some of his possessions and asked an acquaintance of Valentin’s to buy one for him. But if it hadn’t been the gun, it would have been something else: a rope, pills. Kim once told us that he might try to kill himself, but that there was nothing we could do to prevent it. Of course I took him to a therapist once a week, a psychiatrist once a week, I tried to get him to do past life regression, everything. We just didn’t want that prediction to come true. But, sadly, it did. Valentin was his best friend toward the end and made his life so full of love and friendship. Now, Sean is one of his lifelong friends. We’ve know him since grade school, and I homeschooled him along with Erik for many years. So, they were very close, too.

    Jamie: No, he went to Valentin first. He didn’t check on Sean until later.

    Erik: Then I went to see Popi.

    Me: Yeah, Popi (my dad, Erik’s grandfather) told me you visited him, sat down in his lap and laid your head on his chest. That kind of freaked him out, because he’s a total atheist. He doesn’t believe in life after death at all.

    Erik: Yeah, and it was sort alike going to the house next door.

    Me: Wait, are you talking about my dad, Popi, or Pappa’s father in Norway?

    Erik: Your dad. Popi.

    Me: Well, I have to tell you, Erik, it really startled my dad. He called and said he was in shock and that he didn’t know what to think. I’m glad, because he’s almost 90 so…

    Erik and Jamie laugh.

    Erik: Then, I went to Norway to see Bestefar. Chilled with him a while.

    Me: Okay, so then what?

    Erik: Well, there was this really bright light that I didn’t really feel I could look at, cuz I’ve always been taught not to look at the sun since it might burn your eyes, you know?

    Me: Yeah, sure.

    Erik: But it didn’t burn at all. No tunnel, no upward and away motion. I was actually a little disappointed in that! (laughing) You know how when you come out of a movie theater after sitting in the dark and you come out into the bright-lit lobby? It takes a while to get use to it, to adjust. Your eyes adjust, and you begin to see you’re not alone.

    Me: Uh huh.

    Erik: And the odd thing is, I can’t tell you if I was inside or outside. It’s like I was just in a space.

    Me; How did you get to the Light from Norway? Were you pulled there?

    Erik: It’s weird. It’s like I just walked a few steps and got there. I just walked in the direction that I felt the pull was taking me. Let’s go back to the life jacket idea. It’s like I was being pulled and pulled toward and then into the boat, but while I was being pulled, I made those visits. I do all this stuff, and finally, by the time I’m done, I’m getting closer to the boat, and they pull me a few feet up into the Light and into the ALTERNATE DIMENSION. (He says this like Rod Serling would say “TWILIGHT ZONE” with an eerie and mysterious tone.)

    Jamie: He’s laughing hard!

    Jamie and I laugh.

    Me (laughing): Making a joke about it, huh?

    Erik: Of course that’s not what we call it when we’re here. You don’t even know what to call it! You just know you’re in the right place. That’s the only thing that matters, You know you’re in the right place. I knew I didn’t do anything wrong, that I was just in the right place.

    Me: Good. So who did you see over there?

    Erik: I remember seeing Aunt Denise first.

    Me: Yeah, that’s what you said through Kim. So, uh, how did that conversation go?

    Erik (chuckling): It’s so funny that you say conversation, because she had a mouthful for me!

    Me: Oh, boy! I bet!

    Erik: She went at me verbally. And frankly, I really felt like that was unfair, because she knew what was going on, and I didn’t!

    (My younger sister, Denise, committed suicide in 2003 after a life ravaged by severely brittle Diabetes. She walked with a walker, was fed by J-Tube directly into the small intestine, wore diapers and had to be catheterized three times a day. When she had a small bowel obstruction, they gave her blood that was Hepatitis C positive. Her nephrologist told her that essentially she was a goner because they couldn’t treat the Hep C without her rejecting her new pancreas and kidney.)

    Me: Yeah, because she killed herself too! Of course she was so debilitated by her disease so, no surprise there…

    Erik: Yeah, but over a period of time, again and again and again she would come at me with “what happened?” and “what do I need to do?” and “who should I console?”

    (I found this really funny, because our family took care of Denise; she lived with us. And she was such a busy body, always asking so many questions. We always used to tease her by saying, “Why say why; Try Bud Dry.” That used to make her laugh, plus it gave us all a short reprieve from the barrage of questions.)

    Me: Yeah, Denise was a bit of a Buttinsky, but in a loving way.

    Erik: But there were other people there, too. But no God on a throne. There were like six people there to greet me, uh, dressed in clothes.

    Me (chuckling): Nothing Greek?

    Erik (laughing): Yeah, nothing Greek.

    Me: No toga party, then? Dang! I remember those when I went to Rice University!

    Jamie laughs loudly.

    Erik: That was good, Mom! That was good.

    Me: Were they all departed loved ones of ours?

    Erik: Yes, and there were some I knew that I knew, but it was kind of like when you have a dream where you know you know that person, but in consciousness you can’t identify them at all.

    Me: Okay, wow, this is all so interesting. Well, I guess we should close now. But Erik, you know it’s your brother’s birthday today. Did you wake him up this morning or try to?

    Erik: I tried to, but he sleeps like a log.

    Me: That’s true! That’s true! Okay, well maybe you can give him a little surprise while he’s awake, then.

    Erik: Yep.

    Me: Give him some goosebumps like you do to me!

    Erik (chuckling): I do have some tricks up my sleeve that I’m going to use throughout the day!

    Me: Good!

    Erik: A special day!

    Me: Why do I always feel intense goosebumps more on my left side?

    Erik: Your left side is more sensitive than your right.

    Me: Oh, okay. Well, I love you Sweetie, and when I come over there, we’ve got some catching up to do! I’m going to prank you to no end, just like you do to Jason and Robert and me!

    Jamie and Erik laugh.

    Me: Well, I love you, Erik. I love you so, so much. I miss you. I miss you so, so much, Sweetie.

    Erik: I love you more.

    I find that very hard to believe.

  • June3rd

    26 Comments

    This part of the channeling transcript was not at all easy for me. The graphic memories, the heartache, the sense of loss, it all flooded back to me like a tsunami of dread and despair. For that reason, I’ve transcribed just a portion of Erik’s description of his death. The heart can only endure so much pain.

    I do hope, however, that you can find some comfort in his words, particularly when you think of your own departed loved ones, because there are elements of peace, beauty and joy in death.

    Me: What did you notice after your death that was different for you, Erik? I know it’s different for each person, but as a general rule, what do most souls notice right away?

    Erik: Their bodies.

    Me: Yeah. You see your body? That’s the first thing you notice?

    Erik: No. The body… the way it feels. It’s crazy, Mom, because you don’t have any pain, but sometimes that doesn’t register until like days or weeks later, as Earth time goes. There’s no hunger or thirst. You’re never too cold or too hot. And some notice it right away, but for others, it’s like a few days after they go, “Hey, I don’t have any pain!”

    Me: Wow.

    Erik: Because some people have lived with pain for so long, they don’t realize when it’s gone.

    Me: Yeah. So what else? What other sensations do you notice right away?

    Erik: Expanded. You feel expanded and lighter. It’s like you’re not cramped into that tight space anymore, and you can fill any space you want. Also, one of the first things you notice is when you think of something…when you have a thought, you don’t get in a car and travel somewhere to see it or go get it. You just end up there. Like when I think of you, I’m there. When I think of Bestefar in Norway, I’m there.

    Me: Wow, so thought creates reality much faster there?

    Erik (laughing): Oh, yeah!

    Me: Must save on those plane tickets. No frequent flyer miles for you, though, Erik.

    Erik laughs.

    Me: But can you create a car or motorcycle or boat and travel that way if you want to?

    Erik: Yeah! Hell yeah! You can create anything. Just like humans can create houses and build their cars; we have the same capabilities here, but it’s done in a much different way. Easier and quicker.

    Jamie (laughing): He’s giving me this look like, “Oh, poor you!”

    Me: Us poor peons down here have to do everything the hard way, huh?

    Jamie laughs.

    Me: What about the body? After you leave the physical body and look down at your spirit self, do you still have a body of some sort like a “memory body?” Does your form seem solid to yourself, at least at first?

    (Long pause)

    Me: I mean, when you looked down on your, you know, your lifeless body, but then looked at your soul’s body, what did it look like to you?

    Erik: Mom, at that time, I didn’t even know to wonder if it was solid or not. It just wasn’t even in my realm of thinking. I was just too concerned about, “What’s gonna happen now?”

    Me (sadly): Yeah. Must have been scary for you, Baby.

    (Pause)

    Erik: I know this sounds weird, but I didn’t have a lot of fear, because there weren’t those smells and sounds and sights and feelings that would create fear. It was actually extremely peaceful. And you know that one second felt like five minutes.

    Me: Okay. Which one second? When you pulled the trigger?

    Erik: Yes.

    Me: Oh, okay. Did it hurt?

    Erik: I remember the sounds around me but not the pain. It’s like I heard the ricochet whizzing sound of the bullet after it went through my head.

    Me: Gosh, Erik, weren’t you scared when you were slowly squeezing the trigger? I almost feel like you probably weren’t sure you were actually going to do it until it was all over, like you didn’t totally make up your mind until it was too late. What were you feeling at that moment?

    Erik: That’s pretty interesting that you knew I pulled the trigger slowly.

    Me: Oh, I just got that. I don’t know. I just get the feeling you had not made up your mind until it was all over. Maybe you told me about your indecisiveness before in another channeling session, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t tell me you pulled the trigger slowly. That’s just what I get. Maybe it was channeled.

    Erik: That’s true, but I didn’t really think I would die from it.

    Me (somberly): Yeah, well, it was a 45 caliber hollow point. Oof.

    (Long, poignant pause)

    Me: What else do you want to share about death and the moment right after death, you know, what the soul realizes right after death?

    Erik: Well, definitely lack of pain, like I said. Ease of movement. How thought creates reality in an instant. Also these wonderful things are happening to you. There’s this full-on weakness that you have at first. For me, I relate that to—I don’t know how to maneuver this body. When I was alive, I would reach out, grab the can, open it up and drink it. I could feel thirst and take care of it. If I wanted to see my family, I could go call or come over or email. But now these patterns that I learned don’t exist anymore. They don’t work the same way.

    Me: Hmm. Wow!

    Erik: In the beginning, there’s this sense of helplessness. I’ve heard some spirits call it release, but you have to sorta relearn how to interact with people and stuff. Some spirits know how to do it right away. You know, entering a dream or moving something away or making something appear. But some of us just take longer before we able to do certain things.

    Me: To do what, exactly? Can you give me an example of something you’ve tried to do and it was difficult?

    Erik: I remember I tried to pick the gun up.

    Me (sadly): Um hm.

    Erik: I tried to move my face to help me.

    Me; Um hm.

    Erik: None of that worked. My hand just went right through everything. It penetrated, it had a sensation; it wasn’t like my hand was moving through air. I could feel density and texture. I could feel the emotion of what I was going through.

    Me: Did the emotions feel different?

    Erik: Yes, they did. It’s like they weren’t mine. Though I was looking at myself—I know it was me, but it didn’t feel like me at all.

    Me: Help me understand this. What emotions did you—your soul—feel right after death?

    (Pause)

    Me: Besides, of course, helplessness and—

    Erik: Joy. Wait. I take that back. If I have to break it down in a sequence, I’m guessing the first feeling I had was peacefulness. Being at peace.

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: I recognized I was at peace and felt joy. Then, when I saw that I was separated, you know, from my physical body, I felt I wasn’t solid, that’s when I went to go help myself, try to anyway. I only had time to try to help once. And I wasn’t afraid for myself, either.

    Me: Okay.

    Erik: Because I felt fine!

    Me: Yeah. And then, did you feel like, when I went up there and found you, did you go through that, “Oh my gosh; what have I done” feeling?

    Erik: Not right away. At first I was really interested in finding out what was next. I didn’t do the “Oh my gosh; what have I done” thing until I realized that it was irreversible.

    Me: Oh, yeah. Yeah. Okay, so walk me through the sequence: you tried to grab the gun, then you tried to help yourself once, then what?

    Even as I proofread this, my stomach turns and my heart sinks to familiar depths. As I’m brought back to that tragic day, magical thinking takes over in that for a split second, I truly believe I can intervene as his finger slowly flexes around the trigger. God, if only I could create a time machine. What would I do? I’d make him do the past life regression that would have cast a light into his darkness. I would have insisted he join us for lunch. I would have wrapped him in my arms and kept him there forever no matter how hard he squirmed and protested. But alas, there is no time machine, and magical thinking is just that—illusion. Or delusion. I miss you, Erik.

  • May13th

    19 Comments

    Jamie’s assistant, Amy, wanted you guys to know that there are a few spots open for the following channeling calls. All others are booked up.

    Griever’s Call June 2oth

    Erik’s Conference Call July 11th

    Griever’s Call July 18th

    This post was published just 4 months after Erik died. It makes me sad to read it because it reminds me of how deep and cutting my pain was at that time. Now, the pain has dulled, but I suppose it will always be my constant companion.

    Losing a child, particularly to suicide, is gut wrenching. It lends an entirely new perspective on the term, “a broken heart,” because every morning when I wake up and realize that ‘yes, Erik is still dead; it wasn’t all some horrible dream,’ I feel like a dagger has been plunged to the hilt into my heart. Since his death, it’s like I’ve lost a limb and must limp through life a broken woman. Some days I wonder how I can bear plodding through the decades I have left on Earth when every day that my son isn’t with me is like a bitter eternity. Some days, I long for death, but the love I have for my husband, my other children, my friends and the rest of my family plays tug-of-war with my soul. I must stay. I must love. I must endure.

    Of course I have many good days, but when I slip into a particularly dark place, Erik comes to comfort me. The other day he did just that. Here is just one story of the many miracles with which he graces our lives:

    Erik shot himself in the head in his bedroom. Finding him moments later was the most horrible experience I’ve ever had. For days, I couldn’t even go upstairs, much less return to that room. Then, I went through a phase when I wanted to be there all the time. I wanted to smell his dirty clothes. I cursed the fact that the sheets on his bed were changed minutes before his death, robbing me of the chance to soak in his scent, his essence. I tended to the makeshift altar on his desk by lighting the candles and rearranging the flowers that were slowly turning brown. I combed every surface, every wall to find the dent made by the wretched bullet that stole him from me forever.

    Now, I avoid the room again. Seeing the rough wood planks from which the carpet was removed, seeing the yellow bags the crime scene cleanup crew filled with his clothes, seeing his empty bed…it’s just too hard. We keep pictures of him around the house, but every reminder of his death is locked away in his room: the photo album from the funeral home, the keepsake box filled with sympathy letters, leftover programs for his memorial service, copies of our eulogies, they’re all in his room as unspeakable reminders of a life cut short. Erik’s room is a no man’s land behind a locked door that no one dares open. To open that door is to open painful wounds again.

    The other day, I felt particularly sad. As I sat on the couch sobbing softly, the housekeeper who comes once a week and has know Erik since he was 16 months old approached me quietly. She said, “Elisa, look what I found on the utility room floor.” She placed a little card in my hand. It was a card meant to be distributed to everyone at Erik’s visitation and memorial service providing information on how to leave an audio message, thoughts, prayers, remembrances, condolences.

    How could this be? These cards have been locked away in the leather keepsake box in his room upstairs. The door to his room has been closed for months. How did that card go from that box, from that room, all the way downstairs to settle on the white tile floor in the middle of another room?

    As I touched that card, Erik’s image appeared in my mind. However, this was no ordinary image. It was vivid. It was strong. It was tangible. And the smile on his face spoke volumes. It said, “Mom, I’m fine. I’m here. I’m as alive as I’ve ever been.”

    I’ve learned so much from the books I’ve read on how souls can manipulate energy to move material objects, even books explaining the physics behind the phenomenon. In a previous entry, I recounted how Erik said he was working on developing that skill so he can contact us in more tangible ways. That miracle proved to me that his practice paid off.

    A day destined to be sad had become happy. Thank you, Erik, my darling boy.

  • April10th

    53 Comments

    Book season is around the corner, and I’ve been contemplating my second one. In it, I would love to include appropriate personal stories from you at the beginning of each section. Your input is important, because you’re my second family. Here’s a poll that will help steer me in the right direction. Note that personal stories might not make sense with some of the choices. 

    If you haven’t bought my book, My Son and the Afterlife, please click HERE and support the cause! Thanks in advance.

    So many of us complain that their deceased love one doesn’t visit or communicate with them from time to time if at all. Erik explains this from the spirit’s perspective.

    Me: Why can’t you spirits get down to the frequency where grievers are when they’re the ones who need it the most? Is it just really difficult? Are some spirits better at it than others?

    Erik: It’s horrible.

    Me: Huh?

    Erik: It’s horrible, and that’s kind of like part of the lesson. If you’re on an obstacle course, and you know that there’s going to be really easy moment and really hard ones—let’s say there’s part of the obstacle course where you fall into the hole, but you need to learn how to get out of the hole, so that the next time it happens, you have the tools to do it yourself. Well, if someone’s standing there going, “Oh, you fell in? Here’s a ladder,” and you climb right out… We’re missing the struggle and the learning that comes from it, or actually the remembering, because we already know all this shit. We’re missing the skills.

    Me: You sound like my husband! He knows everything!

    I chuckle.

    But he kind of does.

    Erik: Cuz Pappa is very smart!

    Me: Oh yeah. He is.

    Erik: He went through the lows, man!

    Me: Yep.

    Erik: He’s a fighter.

    Me: Mm hm!

    Erik: So, if we look at being an emotional being, which we are; we’re not human beings; we’re emotional beings. We’re not logical beings either. I wish people would fucking wake up to that. We’re emotional beings, and we need those emotional highs and lows to learn those skills of how to direct our lives, our destinies, our whatever you want to call it. Our “moment.” Let’s put it that way. I think that’s more impactful than any other word, because we have to live every moment that comes to us.

    Me: Okay. What does it feel like to have to lower your energy like that?

    Erik: Gum.

    Me: Gum? What?

    Jamie (laughing): That’s the first word he said. Gum.

    Me (in jest): Gum? It feels like gum, not Gumby?

    Erik (over pronouncing): Gummm. Being chewed.

    Me: Really?

    Erik: Yeah, it’s like having pressure pushed on me on all sides.

    Me: How do you do it, though? Do you grunt and squeeze your fists like you’re having a bowel movement! (I chuckle.)

    (Long pause)

    Jamie: Thanks for giving him that so that he could give me a visual that I will never, ever be able to get out of my head.

    Me (laughing): Oh, sorry!

    Jamie (laughing): He thinks he’s sooo funny!

    Me: Oh, he is, though. Sometimes.

    Jamie: It was pretty clever, but we’re going to skip that. (To Erik) Come on, now. How does it feel?

    (Long pause)

    Maybe he’s constipated.

    Jamie: Okay, so he’s showing me magnets, and you know how you can reverse one and you can take it and push the other magnet around without touching it?

    Me: Mm hm.

    Erik: It feels like that when you lower your vibration. It’s like there’s some source pushing on you, but you can’t really see it, like wind, heavy wind.

    Me: Okay.

    Erik: And you’re trying to stay upright, but once you get used to manipulating the denser energy, then it does become easier. But not a lot of spirits like it. It takes a ton of focus, so you can get really exhausted afterwards; you know where you need to go recharge your batteries.

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: It doesn’t shorten our lives or anything, because we don’t have a longevity issue, but it is all about the focus of intent. That’s just to lower ourselves to the level of people with a higher vibration. Imagine when we’re doing that with people in grief.

    Me: Yeah!

    Erik: That’s why we have to catch them at odd moments when they’re not paying attention like when they’re asleep and we come into their dreams. Then, they can’t play interference with their emotions like they can in their awake state when they’re going, “Why did you do this? You ruined my life. I miss you so much,” you know? Thanks for putting the blame on others. Your emotions and everything that you’re feeling and stirring up is all from yourself.

    Yeah, but their death was certainly a trigger. Probably shouldn’t have used that as an example.

    Erik: It’s crazy, because some people’s brains can’t open up and see that, and they’re not going to see it until they’re like 80 something, and it’s going to be like, “Oh shit! Yeah.”

    Jamie: Shit Yay-ah.

    Me: Are some spirits better at doing this than others, or is it sometimes a matter of, “Ugh, I don’t wanna do that, so I won’t. I don’t wanna feel like gum. It’s too uncomfortable”?

    Jamie: He’s being more specific this time instead of goofy.

    Erik: Most of them can do it. Actually, every one of them can do it. Everyone can learn to ride a bike; everyone can lower their energy. Most of them, say 40% go, “Why? Why lower my energy when I can catch them when they’re in a happy moment?” A lot of times, we also have to be aware of whether we’re interfering with their plan, their destiny, their lesson, because if we show up, tell them something simple like give them a message, all of a sudden we fucked everything up, and we’re kind of held responsible, so…oops. But there’s a majority—

    (Pause)

    Jamie (frustrated): Blah, blah, blah, Erik!

    I guess he was going too fast for her.

    Erik: It’s like having a talent, like we mentioned the bike or being a musician, playing the guitar; some people find it so easy, and it makes so much sense to them. They don’t mind lowering their energy to talk to people, but for the rest of them, it’s very hard to play the guitar, and they’d rather wait until the timing is perfect.

    Me: Are you pretty good at it? In other words, do you find it easy?

    Erik: Yes. Yes. I find it kind of easy.

  • March5th

    57 Comments

    It’s official! The first one to guess Erik’s favorite beer (which is/was Fat Tire) is Christine Waight! She’ll be receiving a signed copy of my book courtesy of Amy Colfelt. Again, Amy, thanks for your generosity and love.

    Today I’d like to share some personal epiphanies that I hope will help those of you who still grieve. Over these last few years, I have learned to let every part of Erik go except for his physical body and the tragedy of the life he led before he freed himself of it. I knew I had to detach myself, not from Erik as he is, but all of the pain associated with his life and death. I decided the best way to do that was to reconstruct my perspective. As for his death, I imagined myself not fleeing up the stairs with a sense of horror and dread but excitement. I felt thrilled knowing that Erik had probably left his body to find happiness. Instead of the smell of gunpowder in the stairwell and hall, I smelled the fragrance of lovely flowers. When I rushed to see him in his room, sitting lifeless in his chair, instead of running to him sobbing with my head in his lap (I dared not look at his face and head again.) I hugged his energetic body and said, “Good for you, Erik! I’m so happy you’ve found peace and joy at last.” I could sense his euphoria and felt proud of his courage, and some of that spilled into me. Then I looked at his body and saw it as a soulless cocoon, one from which a butterfly emerged and flapped its way to the nearest blossom. I felt no emotional attachment to it nor any horror from that graphic scene.

    But then upon thinking about how miserable he was in life, I felt sad. I wished I could have saved him from that misery, but I couldn’t. So, I envisioned a dark tunnel, so dark that there was no way of judging whether you were right side up or down, going left or right, backwards or forwards. In fact, the feeling was that of complete lack of direction. I knew I was following Erik through the tunnel trying hard to help him find his own direction, but I could barely find my own. We both felt very dark, full of despair. Then, we saw the light at the end. When Erik emerged into that light, his darkness turned into euphoria. I had never seen him smile so broadly. Clearly, all that darkness that had plagued him in life was behind him, and there was no going back. However, I was still clinging just inside the tunnel, still engulfed it its sadness. I didn’t know how to leave it, because it had such a firm hold on me. Because of that, I was still a part of that tunnel, his past. Then, Erik grabbed me by my shoulders and eased me out lovingly. I was finally free from the tunnel and its directionless darkness. Once detached, there was no need for me to look back, and the farther I got from the tunnel’s edge, the less meaning that darkness held for me. Eventually, I couldn’t even see the tunnel.

    Once I changed the stories, my perspective changed, too. Although I’m sure I’ll have to go through these steps again from time to time, I feel so much better, not consumed with pain as I was before. I’m sure you have your own fresh stories to make, but once you have them, I hope they free you as much as mine have for me.

    th

    By the way, I’d like you all to know that Robert, Erik and I will be on a radio show with host, Amanda Grieme, tomorrow at 3:30 CST. Here’s the LINK.

     

  • February27th

    35 Comments

    Today is a very sad day. A friend that my daughter, Annika, has known since preschool died Friday in a very tragic way. She and our family were very close. She even traveled with us to San Antonio and Florida. I went to the viewing yesterday, and, as is always the case, it was clear to me that what remained of Emma was a shell. The spark in her eye that was her soul was gone. I plan to help with the wake, but, although I fully intended to, I just can’t go to the memorial service. It would remind me of Erik’s. My heart just bleeds for the family. I remember the call from the cornea donation place, having to pick out a casket, the corner decorations, the marker and its message, the plot, the clothes he would wear. I remember looking at his neck and getting a glimpse of the Y incision made during his autopsy. I remember caressing his hair only to have some of it come off, because they had to put color matched “fake” hair to cover up the bullet hole. It triggers so much pain, but I plan to take her mother under my wing and help her get through this. I know when Erik died there was no one there who had lost a child. 

    By the way, I forgot to tell you that Erik used to always wear the same kind of hat as that dude in the Believe video. He loved fedoras. I didn’t get that connection until after I posted the YouTube, but I think that’s pretty cool. Plus, the guy’s energy reminds me so much of Erik’s. 

    Here’s yet another neglected post. I think I have one more. Also, I just wanted to tell you guys that I just interviewed Farrah Fawcett and Meher Baba. I have to finish the session I’m transcribing now, but then I’ll get on these. Each of them takes me several days, because my days are so full of other things. I hope you look forward to them!

    Me: Okay. Anything about your growth? I’m not focusing on you, Erik. About you.  I know about your trying to understand the difference between participation and involvement thing.

    Erik: That is part of my growth.

    Me: Yeah, but how else are you doing there? Tell me your life over there. What’s going on besides just helping me? Now, for every one hour you talk about me, I want you to spend one hour talking about you!

    Jamie giggles.

    Erik: I did. I told you about how I’m learning how to be involved but not be involved.

    Me: Okay. Well, what else? What else is going on in your life?

    Erik: Oh, my god, that’s like been the biggest topic on my head for about two months.

    Me: Well, do you have any fun over there? What do you do with your day besides blog-related things?

    Erik: My fun is playing with my balls.

    Jamie (laughing hard): Oh, Erik!

    Me: Oh, god. Well, it always has been probably. (Sigh) What else, Erik?

    Jamie is still laughing.

    Me: By the way, a lot of people seem to have crushes on you, but I saw one comment in the Channeling Erik group, “Yeah, I always had a crush on him, but now I really do once I found out he had a big package.”

    Jamie laughs. I don’t know how much more of this she can take.

    Jamie: He’s just laughing. He’s pointing at his crotch and going, “That’s the ticket.”

    I giggle.

    Jamie (to Erik): You wish you knew how to use it! Next topic, Erik. Um, he’s showing me a picture of being on—it’s a motorcycle, but it’s not like a Harley. It’s one of those fancy ones with the—

    Me: Like a crotch rocket?

    Jamie (laughing): Crotch rocket! Yeah.

    Me: Okay.

    Jamie: Doo—dook—

    Me: Ducati? Okay, yeah.

    (My husband only rides Ducatis and Erik used to love riding my red Ducati Monster.

    Jamie: And, um (Pause) He’s showing me a bunch of pictures. He’s on it. It’s a steel gray color and he’s on a road that has no speed limit.

    Me: I hope you’re wearing your helmet.

    Jamie: It’s kind of a mountainous place, but it looks like a highway. He said it’s on Earth. Oh, the, um. Oh my god, I just totally forgot the name of it. That road that doesn’t have a speed limit. It’s in Europe, right?

    Me: Oh, the Autobahn, for one?

    Jamie: The Autobahn, yeah. So, yeah, he apparently has a few other friends who are biker fans as well.

    Erik: We kind of blow steam off by doing that.

    Me: Good!

    Erik: It’s not racing, though. It’s just the joy of riding.

    Me: All right. Anything else you wanna talk about? Your fun? Your life over there? I forget to ask you these things, because these sessions are so blog-driven. I want to know more about my baby!

    Erik: Well, tell Pappa not to be disappointed that I’m not racing, but I am still enjoying them.

    Me: Good. The Ducati is his favorite bike. That’s it. That’s what he races with.

    Jamie: Are you serious?

    Me: Yeah.

    Erik: It’s not like we have a garage full of them or anything, because we don’t need to keep them like that. We just manifest them. If it’s something we can think about, create and dream up, then we can get it.

    Me: That’s awesome.

    Erik: Yeah, it’d definitely be good for the Earth, that whole recycling thing.

    Me: Okay, tell me one more thing that you do during the day. Or night. As if there were day and night.

    Jamie: That is wild, because when you said “night” I didn’t see it at all. There was no image. It was just kind of a softer version of a day.

    Me: Oh!

    (Pause)

    Me: You go clubbing?

    Jamie: No, he’s showing me this building he’s walking into, and it’s huge! It’s not tall. It’s maybe 12 or 13 stories tall. Not like a skyscraper or anything, but it’s got a fascinating shaped roof. It’s kind of domed or domed with a little bit of wave. It makes you wonder how it’s standing up like that.

    Me: Oh, okay.

    Jamie: And tons of glass. Tons of light coming in. Very unique. Almost reminds me of an observatory, but on a way huger scale. And he says there are places, he’s saying the word, but I don’t get it! It’s the name of the building. It’s some name for the building. You go in and you, um—

    (Long pause)

    Jamie: Sorry. It’s more images that words right now, so I’m trying to watch and then know what I’m about to explain, because I don’t know what it is. I know I’m in a room structure, but there’s something about it where you can transport yourself.

    Me: Hm!

    Jamie: Time. Space. Cuz I know that the body, itself—the spirit—can think. It’s driven by attraction and it can go where it needs to go or wants to go, and that’s how spirits travel. But he’s talking about going to other universes and galaxies.

    Me: Is it like a portal? Is that what you’re saying?

    Erik: Yeah, we can say it’s like a portal, but it’s not electronically driven. Nobody goes, “What’s your destination please, Sir” and then they pull a switch.

    Jamie and I laugh.

    Me: Beam me up, Scotty! Well, can you do that outside of the building? Aren’t you able to think about another galaxy and be there?

    Erik: Well, yes, but this is the building where we learn about these other galaxies or remember them, because there is so much—there are infinite amount information and knowledge. It’s not like we carry that all around in our consciousness. So, when you wanna go and learn about a new place—it’s not really learning. It’s just recalling. Pulling the information back in.

    Me: Okay.

    Erik:  It’s almost like trigger rooms. You know, you go into a room and you go, “I remember this place. Of course. It’s called this, and this is where it’s located in the stars.”

    Me: So it reinserts or you reinsert into your consciousness that bit of information of those memories.

    Erik: Right, and you have to have that clarity before you can transport yourself to that place.

    Me: Okay.

    Erik: Because if you’re not clear, you ain’t going to get there. That’s stupid.

    Me: Yeah. You have to know—

    Erik: It’s like saying, “I want a sandwich” and like, what the fuck are you going to get then? You didn’t specify ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato. You’re just going to get this shit that you created. Then you’re going to be disappointed and you have to think about what sandwich you really want, so…

    Me: Exactly. All right.

    Great. Now I’m starving.

    ***************************

    Dear Reader,

    The journey on which you’re about to embark will take you through stories that are deeply personal and involves a relationship between a mother and her son.

    As a physician raised by two atheists, I had no personal belief system about life after death. In a word, I was a confirmed skeptic. As my journey progressed, my mind opened. It is my sincerest hope that yours will open as well and that you will have a greater understanding of your own life and what’s to come ahead.

    Although Erik sometimes paints a rosy picture of the afterlife, time and time again he stresses that suicide is not the answer to one’s problems. If you struggle, please understand that the information in my blog and my book is no substitute for professional help. Please click here for a list of resources for help when you find yourself considering taking your own life. Know that they are readily available when you feel that hopelessness and despair that many of us feel from time to time in our lives.

    I refuse all donations and ad revenue on the blog. It is my dream to one day establish a nonprofit organization that delivers a variety of spiritual services for those who have lost loved ones to suicide and cannot afford that assistance on their own. It’s a mission of love, sacrifice, and dedication.

    Love and light,

    Elisa



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