Tuesday, March 28, 2017

"AFTER LIFE" BY JOHN EDWARD




“After Life” is a wonderful, enthralling and a constantly astonishing book by the psychic medium John Edward, who I’m sure you’re all familiar with. He is often referred to as a psychic warrior because he was the first in the USA to bring psychic mediumship to television viewers on his show “Crossing Over”. He constantly challenged himself to communicate with dead relatives live on television, confounding the skeptics again and again. It’s impossible to watch him bring through private details from people on the other side to their loved ones in the audience and remain an unbeliever. Many have tried unsuccessfully to unmask some sort of tricks to explain his insights, but as public and out front as John has been, that proved impossible. John Edward is a gifted medium and anybody who says different is simply wrong.
I learned so much about communication with the spirit world from watching John on television and Youtube. It was watching him on Youtube where I found out that, as a child, he and his grandmother had been huge fans of the “Guiding Light,” the soap opera on which my husband, Tom O’Rourke, starred as Justin Marler for seven years. As a matter of fact, John even uses a picture of a lighthouse, the symbol for the “Guiding Light”, for his new “Evolve” series. One of the things that I have learned from mediums and my own psychic experiences is that coincidences are very meaningful, and this was a coincidence that startled me enough that I felt I had to get to know John Edward even better, so I bought his book “After Life”.
It’s a terrific book, full of very interesting stories about how our loved ones are watching over us. It was when I read this book that I learned John’s son is named Justin, which is the character Tom played on “Guiding Light.” I don’t know if John watched the show when Justin Marler was a doctor in Springfield, but this is another coincidence that I knew had personal meaning for me.
When I reached the chapter where John is reading a young woman whose mother wanted to communicate with her from the other side, I found validation of my theory about my husband’s dual personality or divided soul.
Here is part of John’s reading about this phenomenon:
“The connection is intense. And the emotion that comes up around this feels split, as if there’s a dual type of relationship, where two people are within one in some ways. And I feel like it’s something that has unfinished business attached to it.”
“Her mother revealed the abuse she’d endured growing up, which Mia acknowledged. Linked to that abuse was Cyrinda’s perception of herself as a “dual personality”.
“…so there are two personalities. She left that other person behind.”
Now it was clear to me why I’d been led to John Edward. That was exactly the conclusion I came to about Tom’s personality. He also was an abused child, and he also had a dual personality with unfinished business attached to it and an unhappy personality that he had left behind.
What I believe Tom suffered from was a mental complex that involved women and sex. I think the worst thing about childhood abuse is that it occurs when the child is still developing, so that the damage done is so deep it warps the most basic instinctual behaviors, especially sex and love. This makes it almost impossible for the grown person recognize those self-destructive behaviors as aberrations from their normal self. Tom actually evolved a secret narrative to explain all his sexual behavior.
Here’s what Jung wrote about mental complexes. “It is the image of a certain psychic situation which is strongly accentuated emotionally and is, moreover, incompatible with the habitual attitude of consciousness. This image has a powerful inner coherence, it has its own wholeness and, in addition, a relatively high degree of autonomy, so that it is subject to the control of the conscious mind to only a limited extent, and therefore behaves like an animated foreign body in the sphere of consciousness….The complex must therefore be a psychic factor which, in terms of energy, possesses a value that sometimes exceeds that of our conscious intentions, otherwise such disruptions of the conscious order would not be possible at all.”
Yes, when I looked back at my marriage to Tom, it became evident that he had some sort of complex with regards to women in power at his jobs.
And I have many times encountered two very different Tom’s on the other side, but never in the same dream, which is why I believe they are now separate. One Tom is loving and helpful, the other tells me he doesn’t love me and chases after other women.
John Edward himself has a couple of more coincidental parallels with my husband. Not only were both their lives influenced by the “Guiding Light”, but both had very difficult relationships with their fathers. John Edward dropped his father’s last name and uses his middle name as his last name. And I will confess now, for the first time, that Tom also dropped his father’s name when he became a professional actor and later legally changed it. Of course, actors frequently change their names, but Tom did it because to even hear his father’s name spoken was a punishment to him. He certainly did not want to dignify the name of a man he hated with the fruits of his success.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

DO WE HAVE BODIES ON THE OTHER SIDE?

I've watched many near death videos where they talk about being on the other side and being pure spirit, without a physical body. I'm sure they are reporting what they experienced accurately, but isn't it possible that they don't have a physical body on the other side because they are going to return to their physical body on earth? Near Death experiencers are sent back to earth to finish their tasks here, so perhaps they don't fully transition. Just a theory.

I have had physical, bodily contact twice with people who have passed over. The first time, as I describe in my book, occurred when I was furious at my husband for being a cheater and was about to throw his ashes into the trash. My late husband visited me in a very loving physical way that lessened my fury at him and saved me from committing what was probably a sacrilege.

The second time was when a recently deceased, very close friend visited me in a lucid dream. She was a woman who'd gone to Mass every single morning of her life. When she appeared in the dream, she looked beautiful and radiant in a glowing white sweater and slacks, the style she always wore, but, of course, the radiant white was indescribable. She smiled at me and as she said, "I still have a body," she reached out and touched my hand instantly waking me up with a very distinct sense of my hand just having been touched.

I wrote my good friend, her husband, because I thought this was a message for him, to validate that she was visiting him and he had probably felt it, but been unsure. That was partly true. But the message turned out to be for her daughter. It seems her grandson was graduating from high school at the time. There was a spare bedroom that her mother usually slept in when she visited, but wasn't used as often now. Her daughter cleaned the room herself and was sure she'd arranged her magazines chronologically, but every time she did it, she'd come back and find the old magazine with the article on motherhood on top of the pile. She was sure that it was a message from her mom to let her know she was going to be around for her grandson's graduation. Her mom had visited me to make sure her daughter would believe she had a body with hands that could move magazines, no matter how often her neatnik daughter rearranged them. She knew her daughter would not fail to notice this sign from her mom.

Actually, now that I think of it, both mother and daughter were and are VERY NEAT people. You could move whole piles of magazines at my house and no one, certainly not myself, would ever notice.

So I'd have to say that at least some people, some of the time certainly in my experience have physical bodies of some kind on the other side that can interact with our physical world.

Thursday, March 16, 2017

SOMETIMES IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS



I'm not so young anymore, I'm alone and my marriage was in many ways a tragedy that will always break my heart. It's often very perplexing and upsetting to try to live with and understand what was wrong with my husband. I can't even think of his name the same way as I used to. Tom. How I loved that name, so simple, so straightforward, so manly. But now that name seems to have fallen down on itself and become smudged and indistinct.

Then, when I'm feeling low, I'll remember some little thing he did, like set up the coffee machine for me the night before so all I had to do was press the button for my coffee before I left for work. He always left a love letter full of encouragement and telling me how much he loved me. It would be written on oversize legal yellow paper and signed with long rows of x's for kisses and o's for hugs.

And that memory means so much, now. Not that I am deceived anymore about what this meant. I'm sure there was a heaping helping of guilt in this letter. He had spent the night smoking and drinking by himself, festering in his unhappiness and frustration. But I know that those letters came from his heart. It means so much to have a tangible memory that there were moments when his heart did turn toward me, when he longed for us to be happy.

Another great help to keeping my spirits up is seeing that others have suffered from similar problems. I recently watched a production of "The Winter's Tale" by Shakespeare, solely because I am taking the time to get to know old Will better. Strangely enough, "The Winter's Tale" described almost exactly the problem that beset my husband. Fascinating and very reassuring to see in a classical and widely performed play the very same type of mental aberration that my husband suffered from.

"The Winter's Tale" is a tragic romance and a tale. It seems to me that romantic stories are often psychologically symbolic rather than purely stories of individual characters interacting. And when the word tale is involved, it is almost certain to be the story of one person's psychological dilemma. Fantastic things can happen in the world of a tale, like a woman coming back from the dead. That's because we can kill people and turn them to stone in our minds. So these stories are about how we perceive things in our minds. When someone comes back from the dead, it's a clue that we aren't talking about the real world.

The similarity to my marriage is that the hero in this story, King Leontes, suddenly is gripped by a freakish and groundless jealousy in which he believes his wife and his best friend have committed adultery. Though there is no evidence of adultery at all, and no one in the King's court believes the charge, he orders his wife tried and killed, declaring their new baby a bastard.

His wife's transgressions are all in his mind, but because he is king, as we all are of our own worlds, no one can stop him from his grave injustice.

In my own case, my husband's sudden freakish running away from his marriage, even after he was married, is so similar to the king in "The Winter's Tale" that I felt very reassured in my understanding and acceptance of my tragic marriage. No explanation is given as to why he suddenly believes his wife to have betrayed him. Eventually, he realizes the great wrong he has done and miraculously his wife is brought back to life, from being a statue, or perhaps she's just been hiding for sixteen years.

This tale is also similar to the Greek myth of Alcestis, where a king earns a wife only with the help of the Gods, that is, by cheating. He forgets to give thanks to Artemis, so on his wedding night, he finds his bed full of snakes. You don't have to be Freud to know that a bed full of snakes indicates a sexual problem. He should die from the snakes, but is saved by another God for whom he has done a favor.

However, someone must die in his place. His elderly parents refuse, so his wife, Alcestis, goes to the underworld in his place. It's interesting that as a result of losing her, which he soon learns to regret very greatly, he rejects his parents as selfish, because they are old and won't die for him. It seems that a man must stand up to his parents, not necessarily in real life, but to the vestiges of their upbringing that still have sway over who he is. He must reject the selfish acts of his parents and their damaging influence, if he is to be able to properly love a woman.

Of course, the great Herakles arrives. He is an old friend of the king's and wrestles Alcestis from the grip of death, bringing her back to her king for a happy ending. Tales, fairy tales and romances are the stories of our hidden mental battles as we strive to understand ourselves and to be happy, balanced individuals. Usually, no matter if there is a hero or a heroine, tales are applicable to both sexes.

My own tale didn't have a happy ending.... in this life. But I have faith. Those coffee letters give me hope that my king is waiting for me somewhere.













Saturday, March 4, 2017

Such an Appetite for Life


This was Tom's California coup, a postal jeep converted to hot rod by a real California Gear Head. It had a 327 Chevy Engine, Corvette distributor, Engle racing Cams, TRW pistons and rings, Offenhauser head, 350 Chevy Turbo distributor, Eagle Headers, and Oversize Dune buggy Tires. Listen to that throaty engine rumble. Driving the jeep was definitely a great California experience.

Excerpt from FIFTY SHADES OF GRAY HAIR

Athens, Greece: our dream come true trip. I was eagerly waiting for Tom to arrive from New York, so we could catch a shuttle flight back to Crete, where I’d spent two weeks shooting photos for a German fashion catalogue. But the domestic part of the airport was more like an open-air bazaar than an airport lounge. I was surrounded by Greek men who were deeply tanned, outdoor-hardened, and wearing homespun shirts, huge boots with thick wooden soles, and those familiar Greek fishermen’s caps above their stubbly faces. Their carry-on luggage consisted of string wrapped boxes and live chickens in cages. Back in the 1970’s, Crete was still very primitive and undeveloped. At last, Tom sauntered out of customs, wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and big smile. He was always like that, living life to the fullest, as if the world was his oyster. And I loved him for it. I was the worrywart type.

He grabbed me in his arms and planted a long, passionate, hello kiss on my lips. Then, with an amused glance at the rough-hewn Greeks and their chickens, in his best Dimitri Tiomkin imitation, he said, “We take the men and the guns, and we go to the mountains.” I laughed, because that really was what Crete was like. When the mountain men tried to be waiters and serve our crew of photographers and models, they stared us down, daring us to give them our order. We all just kept our heads down and ate whatever they brought.

When we landed on Crete, I told Tom that I’d had to rent an expensive sedan to drive around the island, because the only other vehicles were small, Japanese jeeps. “A jeep?” he exclaimed, his interest piqued, and I knew I was in trouble. But he was right. That little tin can jeep shivered and shook its way up and down the mountains of Crete with nothing over our heads but the Mediterranean blue sky. We basked in the glory of Ancient Greece as we bounced among the sunbaked ruins of a mythical civilization long gone.

Between the grilled octopus and the ouzo, we snaked our way up to the remains of temples that had been ancient when Christ literally was a corporal; all the while, Tom was doing comedy riffs in his sandal saga, dubbed movie voice, keeping me in stiches. “Let him haul stone in Lato! Maybe that will loosen his tongue.” Yes, he was an actor, a born ham.

Careening up and down dusty roads through the sparsely settled mountains, we stumbled into a small, rustic village and got out to stretch our legs. A weathered bandit of a fellow, with a rooster wandering by his table, offered Tom some homemade raki, exactly the alcoholic concoction our hotel keeper had sternly warned us against. Ever the bold rascal, Tom eagerly sat down to sip the nectar of the gods and filled my glass, too. That home brew raki was potent, alright. We sat at that table for a long time with our Greek friend, solving all the world’s problems until the raki ran out. Tom felt right at home on wild, untamed Crete.

Really, he was such a fun person to be around and had such an appetite for life, that you could forgive him everything. And I have, I guess. However, I think, when he got to the other side, it turned out that he was the one who couldn’t forgive himself for what he’d done to his life, to me, and to our marriage.