Death has a way of bringing us to our knees. I’ve been ripped apart by the immense pain Death has wrought and now there’s only the thinnest veil remaining between the invisible world and me. I’ve learned that Death calls forth the gift of the growth of your psychic ability. One of my most profound experiences was when my boyfriend, Martin, committed suicide.
Martin was fit, active and musically talented but he was a tormented soul. I met him in a bookshop in Sydney and over several weeks, I kept seeing him show up in all my favorite bookshops. I was both drawn to, and repelled by him. My intuition told me to stay away, but my need for companionship was greater than my desire to be in reality, so I pursued the relationship anyway. It’s funny how, even when you go against your intuition, you still end up learning valuable life lessons. Life is generous that way.
As I got to know Martin, he revealed his Janus nature. One aspect of him was gentle, fine and beautiful. The other aspect was hard, rigid and cruel. He’d been a gymnastic state champion and could do handstands at the edge of cliffs without falling to his death. He could play Flamenco guitar like a Spanish native, percussing beats on the wood as he tossed it above his head between riffs. He’d starred on stage in The Man of La Mancha, touring around Australia. He worked as a handyman but had no social security number. Martin could drive but he had no driver’s license. He was an outlaw.
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A talented guy
I spent many fascinating days with him, watching, slack-jawed at his talented feats. Yet with predictable regularity, he’d hit the same negative refrain. He’d smoke marijuana and ramble on about how he had no desire to live past the age of 40. Life had no meaning for him; it was a bleak, meaningless wasteland and nothing could convince him otherwise. During those times he became engulfed by a dark auric cloud and emitted a distinctly unpleasant metallic odor.
We were together two years and I soon became bored by his recurrent negative interludes. It was the same old narrative he got stuck in. I grew tired of hearing how inadequate I was and how he longed to be free of the relationship. In the weeks before he died, he became progressively darker, spending his time watching violent films, obsessing over degrading sexual practices and smoking weed.
One day, I finally let go. I told him he could leave if he wanted to. He said he would drive to Sydney, then fly to Brazil to pursue his flamenco guitar-playing career. I gave him my blessing to pursue his dreams and was glad he could now go.
When Martin finally left, within hours I had a vision. I saw a leaf being ripped apart at the spine until the two parts were held together only at the bottom of the stem. I immediately understood my vision’s unquestionable truth. The split leaf told me Martin’s mental, emotional and etheric bodies had already departed the earth plane and only his physical body (being so robust) remained.
Alarmed, I called the police and told them to look out for his van on the road. They asked me if I wanted to file a missing person’s report but I declined because of Martin’s rage if he thought I’d called the cops on him. I did ask them to please make sure to record our conversation and let me know if they found him (they didn’t record our conversation).
A week later I awoke at midnight to the sound of the police banging on my door. They’d found Martin’s week-old dead body slumped over the wheel of his van in a national park. He’d asphyxiated himself using one of his clever handyman fixes. Bizarrely, he died at the same time I had my vision.
Thereafter came a flurry of phone calls from all the services involved in mopping up his death. I wanted nothing to do with any of them; I was so furious with Martin for imposing the aftermath of his suicide on me. No, I didn’t want to contact his family, talk to the police, the van detailers, and the funeral parlor. I wanted nothing to do with any of it.
Shortly afterward, Martin began haunting the house. I could feel his presence emanating from his favorite chair, grumbling and complaining like he’d always done. Our Galah parrot adored Martin and had started pulling out his feathers. My new housemate’s Cavalier King Spaniel barked at the chair as if at an intruder. I told Martin he was dead, so please would he leave the house now.
At the same time, our other friends also reported the presence of Martin. Glenn the chef had hired Martin to teach him how to play the guitar. He would wake up to find his guitar missing, only to find it again in a different place in the house. Andrea the windsurfer also had misplaced items in her house and she said she could feel his eerie presence playing tricks on her.
I was determined for Martin to get out of the house NOW. Employing every spiritual practice I knew, I lit candles, said prayers and burned sage smudge sticks; all to no avail. Martin remained stoically in the chair, ever more enraged that no one could see him without his physical body. Meanwhile, I got on with my life. I went out to nightclubs and met men. I met a South American man called Nero who insisted we hook up. He wanted a girlfriend and I caved in too quickly (for the same reason I agreed to date Martin).
Before long I told him the sad tale of Martin’s death and how the funeral parlor harassed me constantly, demanding I pick up his ashes. Nero said he would consult a Catholic priest regarding the right way to deal with a deceased person’s ashes.
True to his word, a few days later, Nero came to pick me up in his car and said: “This is what we’re going to do. We’ll drive to the funeral parlor. I’ll go in and pick up the ashes while you wait in the car, so you won’t have to touch the urn, ever. Then we’ll drive to the jetty out by the ocean. The priest told me to say some prayers before I scatter his ashes over the water.”
I was grateful to Nero for his care and concern, but I was angry and skeptical as hell about anything to do with Catholicism. Having attended a Catholic school, I knew all about nuns and their ridiculous religion and I wasn’t in the mood for any of it. I passively went along with Nero’s plan because he was kind and I also wanted to get the funeral parlor off my back.
When we arrived at the jetty, Nero went down to the water’s edge where he recited some “Hail Marys” and “Our Fathers” in Spanish and English, in honor of Martin’s love of Spanish culture. I sat back from him, grumbling under my breath about what a load of old rubbish all this was.
Then the miracle happened. As Nero opened the urn and tossed the ashes over the water, something within me lifted and I felt unexpectedly calm, cleansed and clear. It was as if an outside force had removed a massive negative burden from within me. Instantly my mind became quiet. I felt light, as if touched by the hand of God. Please understand, this experience was a distinct, physical event. Something was done to me without the involvement of my own will. I was incredulous. What had just happened? How was this possible? All my anger and resentment had melted away as I felt Martin pass into the true light of his being.
Back home, the haunting stopped. The energy of the house was clear for the first time since Martin and I had moved in together. Glenn and Andrea no longer had to contend with Martin’s mischievous presence. I didn’t grieve his passing; I knew he was now free.
My psychic abilities have grown exponentially as a result of Martin’s death and the following five lessons have remained with me, reinforced by all my other spiritual experiences over the years:
1. About being trapped on the earth plane:
When someone dies in a negative state of mind, they can remain trapped on the earth plane, confused about where they are and what’s happened to them. Just because a person’s died doesn’t mean they’ve changed. They can continue to experience the same thing as when they were alive. The deceased may attach themselves to the people they’re angry with. This being wants to be heard, but most people can’t perceive them, which in turn makes them angrier. Being trapped like this can cause a person great distress but now they’re in a timeless realm, they can remain there for “centuries,” not realizing how much more there is to Life than their confined existence.
2. About visions:
Never discount the visions that come to you in your dreaming or waking life; they have something important to tell you. This is your psychic ability (third eye) waking up and you need to pay attention, even if you don’t immediately understand. Trust Self, and understanding will eventually come.
3. About intuition/gut feelings:
Pay attention to the sensations in your body. Your whole body is a radio antenna picking up on signals the world is sending, alerting you to what’s happening right now. “Reality as it is” may not suit your preferred notions of how life should be, but ignore it at your peril.
4. About negative emotions and attachments:
Negative emotions tell you about your attachments and nothing about metaphysical Truth, which is a higher-vibration perspective. Any action taken from a place of negative emotion is bound to procure an unwanted result. Let yourself feel your emotions until they pass. Then take action from a place of calm centredness.
5. About the spirit world:
The world of spirit is pure and unencumbered by the drone of emotional noise. It is best accessed via your imagination; imagination and psychic ability are one. There is no separation. Cultivate and refine your imagination and you will find your insight and perceptiveness soar.
None of these lessons can be learned through scientific or intellectual learning, or through religious or other beliefs. Beliefs only serve to take you out of the present moment. The only way to grow spiritually is through direct experience, hence it behooves you to listen to yourself, even when the messages you receive appear to be add odds with conventional wisdom. Don’t ever let yourself be bullied into believing there’s only one, true, righteous path. Truth exists in your body, and not in the propaganda of consensus reality.