Guided By Angels: Part 3 of 3: There Are No Goodbyes, My Tour of the Spirit World. Paddy McMahon
were bothering them before they went to sleep seem to have sorted themselves out – if only because they have a different way of looking at them – and they feel much better.
Jane sometimes wishes that they would be more aware of her. At the same time, she understands that it’s best that they get on with their lives. She also knows that, in due course, she’ll be able to meet them again in a more conscious way for all of them. In the meantime, because she’s looking down from her ‘helicopter’, as it were, and has a panoramic view, she’s able to mind them in ways that wouldn’t have been open to her on earth. And by getting on with her own life and releasing herself to the joy of her changed state, she’s spreading a loving vibration around her that includes her family in its embrace.
The power of dreams
In her story, Margaret Anna explained that Jane meets the members of her family regularly when they are asleep. Are we more conducive to visits from spirits when we are sleeping, I wondered?
I remember once listening to a radio programme, during which a psychologist was talking about dreams and their interpretation. A listener telephoned and said that his young daughter had died recently. Shortly after her death he had a vivid dream in which he met her. They had a wonderfully happy reunion and when he woke up he felt as if a huge weight of sadness had been lifted from him. He felt that he had really been with his daughter, but could he trust that feeling? The dream analyst’s interpretation was to the effect that the man’s subconscious had created the dream to help him deal with his grief, and that his daughter in the dream represented a healing aspect of himself. I had no doubt that the analyst’s interpretation was not simply totally mistaken, but it very likely destroyed what had been for the distraught father a beautifully joyful, real experience. In my view he had experienced a meeting between himself and his daughter on the astral plane, a common description of where we go while our bodies are asleep (there’s more about this in Chapter 12).
Throughout the ages, dreams have always provided a source of guidance for people. In my own case, one dream stands out vividly. I dreamt I was standing beside a gate, which Buddha was holding open. There were thousands and thousands of people coming towards the gate, but only small numbers going through it. Even though Buddha was looking at everybody with great love – and was obviously inviting them all to go through the gate, if they wished to do so – most of the people were ignoring him. They passed by the gate as if he wasn’t there. After observing all that for a while, I asked Buddha how could he continue to project so much love towards everybody when he was being rejected by so many. He said to me, ‘That’s the way I am. The only way I can be.’ He indicated that he was going to continue to hold the gate open until everybody came through it.
At the time I had that dream, I was newly into individual consultations. I thought that I’d be letting my guides down if I couldn’t come up with a solution for every problem, no matter how intractable it seemed to be. I felt a huge sense of failure if no immediate solution emerged during the session, and I sometimes endured sleepless nights afterwards. The dream was as timely as it was helpful. Apart from the all-embracing love flowing from Buddha, which was relevant to every aspect of what I was doing, it showed me that the very best I could ever do would be to present myself as I was – with whatever I received from my guides – and then to allow the outcome to be whatever it would be.
Incidentally, while I had known about Buddha, I hadn’t previously had any particular interest in him or Buddhism, nor have I developed any since. I have, however, always felt deeply grateful for that experience.
Letting go
It is not just souls who find it difficult to let go of their physical existence on earth, lost in feelings of bereavement. Humans, too, can continue to grieve for a lost child, lover, parent or friend, and find it difficult to let go.
Margaret Anna commented, ‘Partings are an inevitable consequence of the temporary nature of the human condition, with death being seen as the final one. As we know, it’s not (or what am I at?). There are always good reasons for them in overall evolutionary patterns.
‘What can I say? It’s a matter of profound regret that the experience of humanness is still so painful for so many souls. We can’t interfere with free will. All we can do is try to lighten the burden of suffering to the best of our abilities. The more people accept that there’s no final parting, and that continuing contact between the physical and spirit states is possible, the more we hope and expect that the grief of separation will be lessened.’
As I see it, grief is an inbuilt feature of life on earth. It’s an ironic fact that from the moment we’re born, we’re dying. Even as we grow into the fullness of our youthful vigour and physical prowess, we’re constantly reminded of death – in our immediate families and our friends and acquaintances – and through news reports, death notices in newspapers, wars and natural disasters. As day passes day, we’re that little bit nearer to the inevitable end of our physical existence.
That’s a morbid way of looking at life and it’s best that we don’t indulge ourselves in it. If we can see it as a temporary experiment in helping us to become ever closer to a level of consciousness that’s in complete alignment with unconditional love, we can enjoy the experiment, even while as human beings we’re not exempt from experiencing deep levels of grief throughout our lives. The grief will be more bearable for us when we can see it in the wider context of continuing life, as Margaret Anna suggests.
Some years ago a man named Louis, who happened to be a doctor involved in cancer research, came to see me. His wife, Pamela, to whom he had been very close, had recently died, leaving him with a young family of three children, all of whom were girls. He was disconsolate, not just because of the loss of his beloved partner, but because he couldn’t take away the burden of grief from his children. He also felt helpless because Pamela had managed all of the household affairs; he didn’t know how he was going to be able to cope with them all – as well as with the needs (in particular, emotional needs) of young girls growing up.
It turned out to be a most unusual case for me. I agreed to meet him on a fairly regular basis (which wasn’t my usual practice), because initially I felt very sorry for him and, as time went on, we became good friends. What was really wonderful about his case for both of us was that Pamela always came through as clearly as if she were sitting with us (which she was, of course, now that I think of it). She had answers for all of his questions, as well as most helpful advice about the children. It’s important to say that she didn’t intrude into any areas that the children might have wanted to keep secret from him, which meant that he had no qualms about passing on to them detailed information about what transpired at our meetings. The result was that the whole family felt that Pamela was looking after them in a totally loving way. She, in turn, had the consolation of knowing that they were aware of that, and was comforted by the fact that she was able to anticipate things for them from a broader canvas than would have been possible on earth. An added bonus was that she was able to provide insights for him into challenges that kept cropping up for him in his work, particularly to do with his research.
Sadly, from a physical point of view, he was another of my friends who left his body some years ago. I’m sure there was a joyful reunion with Pamela, and that both of them have continued to help their children (who are now adults). I also hope that, by now, more than likely, he has had fruitful findings in his research towards lessening suffering on earth.
In most cases the contact isn’t so obvious as it was in that one, in which I felt privileged to have been a link. One of my reasons for telling the story is that I believe that the contact is always there, and the people concerned can become more aware of it as they open themselves to its possibility and – I’m convinced – its certainty.
Grief has many guises
Of course, physical death is not the only – or even the most devastating – cause of grief. I have met many people who were grieving over a multiplicity of things, such as problems within families, broken relationships (particularly where long-standing friendships were involved), unhappiness in work situations, and unrequited love. Sometimes it became possible for people to see that what they felt were sources of grief could be transformed into valid reasons for rejoicing.
There