Life Beyond Life

Journeys & Reflections
~ The Miracle of Love ~

the below is an excerpt from my book “Divine Radiance”
available at this link

Pure love’s magnetic architect,
for all creation, form directs,
amending versions to perfect.

Life beyond life:
Phoenix, Arizona March 2001: The circus continues. After spending February in India, the USA is my first stop of our Third World tour in this millennium. It’s a beautiful spring day and I find myself meandering through the streets, plugged into my Walkman and listening to my favorite music – my usual way to stay tuned and in the zone.
Enjoying the morning sun on my way to the Yoga Conference, I find myself thinking about the magic and chaos of India, and the transient nature of life, how we can always count on change. I think about the cycles of birth and death and the search for quality living in between. I think about family, about those we love and those we continue to love even though they have moved on. Thoughts float through the rivers of my mind releasing memories long forgotten as an image of my mother surfaces, releasing feelings of nostalgia again.
I miss her.
In July 1994, in the early hours of the morning, this sweet and giving woman suffered a major heart attack. It was a phone call I had been dreading as a few months before both my parents lay in hospital debilitated by strokes.
When they were well enough, we sold their coastal home and moved them both into a beautiful retirement village where they could be self-sufficient but have help if needed. Bearing scars from the Second World War, and later the deaths of children, both had sailed into old age as gracefully as they knew how. I think they were both now ready to move on.
“Your mother is dead.” It was my father’s voice, he was obviously distraught and in shock. The silence on the phone line was numbing.
“How?” I whispered in shock.
“I think it was her heart.”
“Where is she?” I managed to ask.
“The ambulance has left; they’ve taken her to hospital. They tried to resuscitate her but I think she’s gone.”
“Where are you?”
“At home still, I have to go to the hospital.” My big, brave father sounded like a lost, little boy.
“I will be right over. Wait there, we’ll go together.”
I woke my teenage children so they would know where I was in the morning as leaving a note seemed much too cruel. They crawled into bed together and cried themselves back to sleep.
Losing loved ones is hard. It was their third grandparent to pass away in less than two years. Dealing with death is never easy, although the missing and wondering about how and where they are gradually lessens with time.

Later as I looked at my mother’s lifeless form lying in the hospital waiting to go to the morgue, she looked as though she was asleep. I hugged and kissed her, and gently stroked her hair away from her still beautiful face. As tears flowed, my heart already ached with the loss, and I felt the tinge of anger.
“You can’t leave,” I found myself selfishly whispering. “I still need you. We have so much to do.”
Somehow I knew she could hear me, that she just no longer had form. Time stood still, then reality returned and I left her with my blessings and prayers, assigning her a team of angels to make her journey light.

“Can you contact her for me?” was my father’s heartfelt plea as I later stood at their bedroom door.
“I don’t know, Dad. I’m pretty emotional. It may create static on the line.” Good telepathy needs clear channels.
“Try …” he said quietly, “for me … please try.”
“Okay,” I said softly and closing the bedroom door, sat beside the mattress where she had breathed her last loud sigh.
“Dear Mother, Father God let me talk to her, to see and feel her. Let this be so. Mother, mother come to me.”
I started to cry again, missing her already; unable to believe she was gone. As I breathed deeply and refocused, light slowly flooded into my mind until even brighter beams appeared in my peripheral vision. A tunnel of light opened and three beings began to take form.
My mother stood in the middle holding the hand of my niece who had died a few years before at the tender age of 25. They both looked well, happy, ageless.
I think my brother was on her right. It was hard to tell for it was two and a half decades since the road had claimed his young life. A car chase, drunken boys, pretty girls, the lure of lust driving them to a destiny completely unimagined. I still missed him and thought what he would be like older, with a family of his own, for we had always been close. In an instant I refocused on my mother.
“You look great,” I said smiling at her, ignoring my sorrow and pain, so glad to connect.
“It’s wonderful!” she beamed. “Here there is no pain, I feel like a young girl again.”
She looked like she was thirty. Light radiated from all around her blinding me to the others. I told her how much I loved her and that I was glad she was happy to be free.
“Tell him,” she said, knowing why I had called. “Tell him I love him. Tell him I will be here, that I will wait for him. Tell him there is no time here, a day, a year or ten, there is no difference. Tell him to come when he is ready. We’ll be together again. Tell him I am with him always, not to hurry.”
She faded slowly from my mind.
“I love you. We all love you,” I said. “We miss you.”
“I”ll be there when you call,” were her parting words.
Our “love yous” seemed to echo throughout time.
I sat in the stillness crying quietly until I could compose myself enough to rejoin my father and talk.

“You know,” he said later through his tears, his chin twitching with his pain, “we have a deal.”
“You and mum?”
“Yes,” he smiled softly. “We said that whoever went first would make contact with the one who’s left behind. I can’t wait to see how she does it.”
“Thank you,” he said after pausing to regain his composure and feeling a tiny bit better.
“We had a magic day yesterday,” he began again finally needing to share.
“We spent the day in bed, making love and talking. She kept saying how proud she was of you all. How she couldn’t have had better children. How you’re all so different yet special.”
We smiled and sat in silence with our hands wrapped around our steaming mugs of comfort coffee.
“She said it would be best for her to die first. That I would cope better without her than she would without me.”
He bowed his head allowing the tears to flow.
“I don’t think she’s right. I miss her already. It doesn’t feel right.”

A few nights later he sat straight up in bed, waves of love and light washing over him, pulsing through his body. Excited he jumped up.
“Your mother is here! She’s making contact!” he said, shaking awake my sleeping sisters who had come to be with him before the funeral.
“Look!” he said excitedly. “I can move my hand. I am healed, the stroke effects have disappeared.”
He picked up a pen and wrote freely with his previously stiffened and useless right hand.
“Look I can write! It’s a miracle! Can you feel her?”
My sister said that he looked like a man possessed by some angelic force.
Although the outpouring and healing was temporary, the effect of her visit boosted his faith and took the last remnants of uncertainty away.

* * *

Seeing the power of love reach across the worlds like this, imprints the watcher with a sense of not just respect but awe, respect for what love represents – the bonding of souls so deeply that they find each other without form – and awe at the power love brings. This was illustrated to me deeply a few years later at a metaphysical retreat we had held in the south of France.

“I’d like to share something with you,” the small woman said after I had been guided to share a story of people who can leave their body at will; how some people can even visit their loved ones to make love, how being in or out of form, or separated by distance, are for some people no restriction.
“I’ve never told anyone this before,” she said as her pale blue eyes sparkled with life. Her white hair was pulled into a pony tale that slightly stretched the skin on her 84 year old face making her look youthful again.
“My husband and I were both Theosophists for many decades, we had a very close, loving and spiritual relationship for over 50 years,” she said smiling wistfully as she recalled her past.
“When he died, I missed him intensely and one night I had a dream that he came to me and slowly, joyously, we made love. It was so beautiful, so real, so fulfilling and …” she paused as if a little embarrassed, “surprisingly when I woke, I had all the symptoms of having physically made love. At first I thought it impossible. How can he make such real physical contact?” She paused again waiting to see my reaction.
“How did you feel?” I asked her.
“Enchanted! Delighted! Amazed to experience that our love was strong enough to bring him to me, for after that he came weekly. It’s been over fifteen years! We would communicate in a way that went beyond telepathy yet at one point I told him that I was concerned that our affair could be holding him back, you know, from moving on to the next plane.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that he would come to see me for as long as I needed him to, that he could be there and here between the worlds. After a few years we agreed for him to come once a month as we both knew he had other work to do. He still comes, it feels so right, yet I’ve never felt I could share this with anyone – most people would think I am a deluded, lovesick old lady pining for her mate but after what you said today, I knew you’d understand. It’s so good to be able to finally share my little secret after all these years!”

I felt honored that she’d told me for stories like these are so wonderful to hear. A meditator for nearly sixty years, this sprightly, quick-witted woman often comes to see me when I come to France and travels half way around the world to be with her son and grandchildren. Full of love and vitality, her devotion to the Divine plus her healthy lifestyle imbues her with a great passion for life.

* * *

The feeling of love that my father and I felt in the Presence of my mother after her transition is one that will stay with us forever, firmly etched into our souls along with the understanding that love pervades all space, bonding us all through time. To me it was the same feeling that I experienced when I first began to consciously commune with the inner plane Masters, for the acceptance of their reality and Presence opened many hidden doors while simultaneously gifting me with the ability to be immersed in the depths of a boundless love. It was a feeling that somehow left its recipient satiated yet paradoxically wanting more.
In the year of my mothers death, I began my life on the road.

* * *

The Science of it all:
I could say it was pure Grace that brought the Presence of the Masters of Magic to my world, others would say it was divine destiny – a visionary’s call, yet overwhelmed by the novelty of it all, my training gifted me with detachment and discernment as I tested their channels and their claims. Not one to be easily impressed, I maintained a scientific view allowing explanations to surface by applying Universal Law. After all, I reasoned, the laws of science on Earth were just a microcosm of a greater view, mirrored by a quantum world which science had only just begun to explore.
Max Plank, the father of Quantum Mechanics wrote, “The pioneer scientist must have a vivid intuitive imagination for new ideas are not generated by deduction, but by artistically creative imagination.”
Unfortunately for the seer with their views into higher realms, the bridges will remain obscured to those stuck in a left-brain world. Thus it has always been and is destined to remain, for the secrets of the universe can only be witnessed by those with the desire to tune their eyes to see and their hearts to feel. For the sensitive, the worlds can merge and when they do, the gifts revealed finally bring the answers to all our questions. Sages in India speak of the love and knowing brought by Tantra, a word meaning method or technique. While philosophy creates dogma and promotes idealistic thinking, only experience through tools deliver us the actual knowing of the field of the Holy Ones and Gods. To be in their Presence, or to be able to experience the presence of loved ones who have passed over and maintain contact, truly is a joy. Yet both are just part of fine-tuning ourselves so that the secrets of the Dimensional Biofield can be revealed.

As I travelled I found so many people in awe of those who have had experiences of Divine communion and revelation, yet the Divine speaks to us all in so many ways. Being able to bridge the worlds, whether to connect with a loved one who has crossed over, or receive inner guidance, is purely a matter of being open and sensitive enough to recognise and accept the field. The most perfect guide and bridge that we all have is the Master within us, our Divine One Within, the one I call our DOW, that purest, most perfect spark of Divine love and wisdom that exists in all atoms and space, the One that breathes us and gives us life. The first step in tuning to Its channel is a matter of desire and the use of a specific heartfelt program:

“I now surrender every cell of my being to the Divine One Within. I give my DOW permission to bring me into perfect alignment on all levels with my Divine Essence now. So it is! So it is! So it is!”
This is step one of accessing and aligning with our DOW. Simultaneously we need to live the type of lifestyle that tunes us to the Field of Love through which our DOW is anchored.

The above is an excerpt from my book “Divine Radiance” – for more you can find the complete book available at this link