Later this week I shall be interviewed on a Toronto based radio program about channeling and mediumship.  I have been participating in such shows for years now and am quite habituated to their rhythms and requirements.  Talking about ghosts, obsessing spirits, the unquiet dead and the happy dead, have become second nature for me, as it is with most psychics.  The other side, with its myriad of inhabitants, is no great mystery for us.  There is no longer an enigma of survival, a mystery of being, doubts about purpose and significance, fears of extinction.

We know we are spiritual beings experiencing in material bodies, we know that life is never ending despite appearances, we know that grieving is but a stage on the endless cycle of transformations.  For myself, I understand, despite feeling eternal life as a reality rather than a dream, the problems and challenges of existence continue unabated.  I struggle as others struggle.  And I play as others play.

Listening to the dead and passing on their thoughts and feelings to either their loved ones or the public at large is an activity much like any other activity.  It has to be carefully prepared for, practiced diligently and continued, with little fanfare, in dignity and humility.  Though payment is received and hearts gladdened, one is always conscious that one is in service to suffering humanity.

Those of you who have watched my Youtube ( videos contacting the famous dead, such as Hunter Thompson, Susan Sontag, Natasha Richardson, Nick Drake, Richard Wright, Spalding Gray and Dennis Hopper, will have noticed the very personal nature of their communications.  They are sad, happy, perplexed, thrilled, remorseful, relieved, combative, jokey, skeptical or withholding judgement.  They are concerned, in the main, with the perceived particulars of their own transition.  They regret their actions, bemoan their ignorance, chide my seeming interference, tease my attitude and purpose and question my veracity and sincerity.  I play along as I have learned to do.  Aiding in transitions necessitates such flexibility, as each case is unique.  Every person has their issues which need to be addressed.  There is no template, no one-size-fits-all.  The variations can seem endless, as the other retrievals and contacts in my books illustrate.

I also contact the ascended, as in ascended masters.  Such advanced beings, having completed their incarnational educations, have no further need for human desires, ambitions or fears.  They exist as guides, teachers, advisers.  They guide and teach humanity rather then individuals.  Their concerns are planetary, cosmic, galactic.  They seek the maximization of all human potential in all fields of endeavor.  They aim at perfected man, perfected societies, peaceful and loving cooperation between all tribes and ethnicities, and the absolute brotherhood of man.  They measure their progress, our evolution in spirit and form, in centuries rather than months or years.  They are in no hurry as they understand the essential illusion of time and space.

Yes, there is a plan, an ancient plan, for evolving humanity, and each of us, as we move on our inner journeys, glimpse various snippets of the big picture.  Those glimpses are they temporary rewards for our patience and unstinting efforts.  I have described and hinted at some of my own.  There have been occasions when I have believed myself possessed by a snapshot of the whole thing, but as I am all too conscious of my human failings and selfish ambitions, I tend to sideline them as being impossibly easy and undeserved.  What does it look like, you ask.  Divine beings of light, perpetually in bliss, diverting themselves with limitation and striving.  Beings to whom planets and galaxies are mere playgrounds.  Beings who play with dimensions rather than strive to understand them.  Beings to whom ascension is a return not an achievement.  Beings to whom “dead” and “alive” are meaningless.

In the meantime, stuck on this planet for the rest of my self-imposed sentence, I embrace all our efforts with love and laughter, knowing that we know but have allowed ourselves to forget.  Just for the fun of it really.