I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately. Maybe it’s just that time of year; when the florists stock up on long stemmed red roses, the grocery aisles are loaded with heart shaped boxes of chocolates and every second commercial during the hockey game is for diamond engagement rings or Hallmark cards.
My husband and I have always said that we don’t need Valentine’s Day to express our love for one another; yet we still give in to temptation and buy each other cards, flowers, and gifts; and every year without fail, my kids wake up to find a heart shaped box of chocolates waiting for them at the kitchen table. Try as I might, I can never seem to resist spreading as much love around as humanly possible...
At this point I suspect you’ve got your finger on the back browser, as you double check the website name, “Confessions of a Ghost Whisperer”? What are you whispering? Sweet nothings? C’mon Mai, where are all the GHOSTS?
Ok, ok… I guess if my love isn’t limited to Valentine’s Day why should the ghosts be limited to Halloween? So let’s get down to what you really want to hear more about, and why this site was created in the first place: the spooks.
One of the first experiences I had with an earth-bound spirit was with a young man named “Mike”. Mike died while on vacation with his fiancée (hey, I didn’t promise that love wouldn’t elbow it’s way into this story somewhere), but before you run screaming from the room, let me give you something to scream about: Mike was surfing off the coast of Australia when he was attacked and killed by a shark as patrons at a nearby restaurant watched in horror; patrons that included his soon to be bride, “Jenna”.
Of all the ways to go, I can think of none more horrifying than being eaten alive, and no creature quite as terrifying as a Great White, but what made Mike particularly interesting to me, as a novice ghost whisperer, is that he chose to introduce himself to me by having me experience his moment of death.
I was safe at home, in my favorite chair and had settled into my usual meditation with hopes of doing nothing more than relaxing. I slowed my breathing and swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the distant drums I would play in the back of my mind as I allowed myself to drift deeper and deeper into a state of peaceful relaxation...
Suddenly I heard a huge crack, like a tree trunk breaking in half. As I tried to figure out what the noise was, I felt a dull pain in my left leg and instinctively reached down to rub it. As I did, I saw a flash of grey/white flesh, rows of serrated teeth and saw, rather than felt, my upper torso separate into two… everything from the right side of my face to my left shoulder and down to my left leg simply disappeared into darkness as the remainder slowly floated downward…
Back in my chair my body was still struggling to figure out what was going on when my mind finally put all the pieces together... OMG! I was attacked by a shark! What the hell? I’m supposed to be floating peacefully! I bolted back to reality, eyes wide, gasping for what I felt sure was my last breath of life and there he was, standing in my living room… young, athletic-looking with wavy dark hair and impossibly deep blue eyes. He was wearing a dark colored wet suit, holding a bright yellow surf board, and I heard the name “Mike” as he proceeded to ramble on about someone named “Jenna”.
Desperately trying to regain my composure (while simultaneously doing a quick inventory of body parts) I broke him off mid-sentence; “I’m sorry, “Mike” is it? First of all, you could’ve just told me what happened. I really didn’t need to experience it first hand; and secondly, can I just point out? You are fine. Your body is intact. Everything is where is should be. You survived your own death”, (still not entirely sure I was as fortunate, I continued counting arms and legs).
He looked down at himself, only momentarily bewildered by what I had said and as he did, I couldn’t help but notice that he was beyond “intact”. He was perfect. I don’t know if he actually looked like that in real life, but I was stunned by what a beautiful soul he was; utterly flawless. Before he could share any more unwelcome experiences with me, I asked him to tell me what had happened, why he felt the need to disrupt my otherwise peaceful meditation.
Once again, he spoke of Jenna, and how sorry he was that he had left her, that if he hadn’t left her he’d still be there, that they’d be beginning their lives together. I told him it wasn’t his fault but he only argued that it was, explaining that he had gone out surfing and left her sleeping at the hotel. He only meant to be gone a short while, back in time to meet her for breakfast, but I guess he had lost track of time, or she had woken up earlier than expected… whatever chain of events led her to that fateful moment… where she found herself standing at the front of the restaurant looking for him as his life ended just a short distance away.
Thankfully Mike didn’t feel the need to impress upon me those last terrifying moments of his life again. In fact, he seemed completely oblivious to them; his sole focus was on Jenna, and how filled with remorse he was that he had acted so “selfishly”. I explained to him that remaining earth bound for Jenna’s sake was a very selfless and loving act, that I’m sure she would take some comfort knowing he died doing what he loved to do, and would be even happier once his spirit was at rest.
He showed me how he was there for her that day at the hotel as the authorities declared him "missing and presumed dead", and months later when she moved back into her parent’s home. I saw how hard he tried to make her hear him and how frustrated he was that he couldn’t seem to get the message through. He insisted that I contact her but I told him I wasn’t about to oblige; getting a phone call from some strange woman who claims to have seen his ghost would not resurrect her fiancée, only the pain of losing him.
It seemed obvious to me that the reason Mike couldn’t get Jenna to hear him was because he was still trying to communicate with her as if he was alive; not from his present, non-living reality. He had to learn to speak to Jenna as he did with me; with his heart and soul, not body and mind. (Boys? Are you writing this down?)
Many years have passed since that day and from time to time I find myself thinking of Mike and his love for Jenna. How strong it was, how intense it must have been; that he could die in such a horrible, terrifying way and still hold only one single thought: that of the woman he loved. I always thought that love was a human emotion, manufactured somewhere within the depths of the human heart; but Mike helped me see the error in that thinking...
Unlike anger, love cannot be controlled. Unlike fear, love cannot be conquered; and unlike pride, love cannot be swallowed. Love is capable of both hurting and healing; it lifts us up and tears us down. It inspires both creation and destruction, and just as many people have lived for it as have died for it.
Love is an eternally limitless and undeniable power; life cannot contain it, and death cannot stop it. Our emotions are merely the means by which we acknowledge love’s irrefutable presence; a way of registering the impact love has on our lives… and in many cases, our death.
Mike came back to visit me from time to time over the next few years, and eventually he crossed in a way that only he could… by paddling his surf board out to where the ocean meets the sky, where the sun was reflecting off the water with blinding brilliance. It was a place where Mike loved to be, and where Love waited to welcome him home...
My husband and I have always said that we don’t need Valentine’s Day to express our love for one another; yet we still give in to temptation and buy each other cards, flowers, and gifts; and every year without fail, my kids wake up to find a heart shaped box of chocolates waiting for them at the kitchen table. Try as I might, I can never seem to resist spreading as much love around as humanly possible...
At this point I suspect you’ve got your finger on the back browser, as you double check the website name, “Confessions of a Ghost Whisperer”? What are you whispering? Sweet nothings? C’mon Mai, where are all the GHOSTS?
Ok, ok… I guess if my love isn’t limited to Valentine’s Day why should the ghosts be limited to Halloween? So let’s get down to what you really want to hear more about, and why this site was created in the first place: the spooks.
One of the first experiences I had with an earth-bound spirit was with a young man named “Mike”. Mike died while on vacation with his fiancée (hey, I didn’t promise that love wouldn’t elbow it’s way into this story somewhere), but before you run screaming from the room, let me give you something to scream about: Mike was surfing off the coast of Australia when he was attacked and killed by a shark as patrons at a nearby restaurant watched in horror; patrons that included his soon to be bride, “Jenna”.
Of all the ways to go, I can think of none more horrifying than being eaten alive, and no creature quite as terrifying as a Great White, but what made Mike particularly interesting to me, as a novice ghost whisperer, is that he chose to introduce himself to me by having me experience his moment of death.
I was safe at home, in my favorite chair and had settled into my usual meditation with hopes of doing nothing more than relaxing. I slowed my breathing and swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the distant drums I would play in the back of my mind as I allowed myself to drift deeper and deeper into a state of peaceful relaxation...
Suddenly I heard a huge crack, like a tree trunk breaking in half. As I tried to figure out what the noise was, I felt a dull pain in my left leg and instinctively reached down to rub it. As I did, I saw a flash of grey/white flesh, rows of serrated teeth and saw, rather than felt, my upper torso separate into two… everything from the right side of my face to my left shoulder and down to my left leg simply disappeared into darkness as the remainder slowly floated downward…
Back in my chair my body was still struggling to figure out what was going on when my mind finally put all the pieces together... OMG! I was attacked by a shark! What the hell? I’m supposed to be floating peacefully! I bolted back to reality, eyes wide, gasping for what I felt sure was my last breath of life and there he was, standing in my living room… young, athletic-looking with wavy dark hair and impossibly deep blue eyes. He was wearing a dark colored wet suit, holding a bright yellow surf board, and I heard the name “Mike” as he proceeded to ramble on about someone named “Jenna”.
Desperately trying to regain my composure (while simultaneously doing a quick inventory of body parts) I broke him off mid-sentence; “I’m sorry, “Mike” is it? First of all, you could’ve just told me what happened. I really didn’t need to experience it first hand; and secondly, can I just point out? You are fine. Your body is intact. Everything is where is should be. You survived your own death”, (still not entirely sure I was as fortunate, I continued counting arms and legs).
He looked down at himself, only momentarily bewildered by what I had said and as he did, I couldn’t help but notice that he was beyond “intact”. He was perfect. I don’t know if he actually looked like that in real life, but I was stunned by what a beautiful soul he was; utterly flawless. Before he could share any more unwelcome experiences with me, I asked him to tell me what had happened, why he felt the need to disrupt my otherwise peaceful meditation.
Once again, he spoke of Jenna, and how sorry he was that he had left her, that if he hadn’t left her he’d still be there, that they’d be beginning their lives together. I told him it wasn’t his fault but he only argued that it was, explaining that he had gone out surfing and left her sleeping at the hotel. He only meant to be gone a short while, back in time to meet her for breakfast, but I guess he had lost track of time, or she had woken up earlier than expected… whatever chain of events led her to that fateful moment… where she found herself standing at the front of the restaurant looking for him as his life ended just a short distance away.
Thankfully Mike didn’t feel the need to impress upon me those last terrifying moments of his life again. In fact, he seemed completely oblivious to them; his sole focus was on Jenna, and how filled with remorse he was that he had acted so “selfishly”. I explained to him that remaining earth bound for Jenna’s sake was a very selfless and loving act, that I’m sure she would take some comfort knowing he died doing what he loved to do, and would be even happier once his spirit was at rest.
He showed me how he was there for her that day at the hotel as the authorities declared him "missing and presumed dead", and months later when she moved back into her parent’s home. I saw how hard he tried to make her hear him and how frustrated he was that he couldn’t seem to get the message through. He insisted that I contact her but I told him I wasn’t about to oblige; getting a phone call from some strange woman who claims to have seen his ghost would not resurrect her fiancée, only the pain of losing him.
It seemed obvious to me that the reason Mike couldn’t get Jenna to hear him was because he was still trying to communicate with her as if he was alive; not from his present, non-living reality. He had to learn to speak to Jenna as he did with me; with his heart and soul, not body and mind. (Boys? Are you writing this down?)
Many years have passed since that day and from time to time I find myself thinking of Mike and his love for Jenna. How strong it was, how intense it must have been; that he could die in such a horrible, terrifying way and still hold only one single thought: that of the woman he loved. I always thought that love was a human emotion, manufactured somewhere within the depths of the human heart; but Mike helped me see the error in that thinking...
Unlike anger, love cannot be controlled. Unlike fear, love cannot be conquered; and unlike pride, love cannot be swallowed. Love is capable of both hurting and healing; it lifts us up and tears us down. It inspires both creation and destruction, and just as many people have lived for it as have died for it.
Love is an eternally limitless and undeniable power; life cannot contain it, and death cannot stop it. Our emotions are merely the means by which we acknowledge love’s irrefutable presence; a way of registering the impact love has on our lives… and in many cases, our death.
Mike came back to visit me from time to time over the next few years, and eventually he crossed in a way that only he could… by paddling his surf board out to where the ocean meets the sky, where the sun was reflecting off the water with blinding brilliance. It was a place where Mike loved to be, and where Love waited to welcome him home...
Video courtesy of pixelbits.ca
