Talk to Me (13 page)

I occasionally obsess over the many variables involved in a crime. Sometimes when one variable is changed, the outcome can be dramatically better for the victim. I'm writing about this to demonstrate for you some of the scenarios of trauma that we witness on TV or at work that we can carry with us through life. I see people who absorb the tragedies on the news every night, and it wears on them. It takes a hold of them and becomes a part of them. They begin to think the whole world is going to hell in a handbasket. We need to learn how to tone down trauma energy so it doesn't consume our life.

I remember watching TV and hearing a woman recount how her neighbours heard her being sexually assaulted in her apartment for hours and left for dead along with her small son, and they did nothing. Then the victim stopped a car, asking the female driver for help, but she told the victim ‘she didn't want to be late for work'. The driver took off, leaving the victim standing on the road with her little boy, both distressed and in need of medical care. People who deliberately look the other way really destroy me. They almost facilitate the crime or condone it somehow through their actions or lack of actions. They re-victimise the wounded. I like to think there's a special place on the other side for people like that, or maybe someday karma will come their way.

If you're sickened at the thought of somebody not helping another in distress, because your innate reaction to horrific circumstances would be to do whatever you could to assist, that means you're a good person. It's a fine measure of one's soul. I have to say, as you've read here, and I'm sure you've heard before, some people feel nothing for anyone but themselves—and that's tragic. When you see a killer on TV, they all have the same vacant look in their eyes. But for every non-humane person, there are 100 000 people who would have intervened on behalf of the victim, taken a bullet for a stranger. Hell! Cops do it every day! But it's the people who aren't expected to, who aren't trained to save, whom I want to call attention to. There are a lot of natural-born heroes walking our earth, and they'd never call themselves a ‘hero'. That's what makes them so great!

God knows we need more people out there doing the right thing by others. Are you one of them?

I believe that there's more good than bad in this world. I believe this with every fibre of my being. It's so important for us as spiritual beings not to stand on the sidelines, but rather to get in the game and play it, otherwise another player on the field is vulnerable instead of protected.

LIVE YOUR LIFE NOW

There's a way to live a balanced existence with less fear and an awareness that maybe you're being too hard on yourself. For every one reading that I do where I don't connect with someone's deceased loved one, I have 100 outstanding readings that leave me feeling amazing inside. Should I concentrate on the rare occasion where I choose to cut the reading? No, and why would I?

As human beings, we have got so good at beating ourselves up and become so self-deprecating that we automatically lose sight of the fact that nobody's 100 per cent in life, and we're not expected to be. Life is full of uncertainties and changing variables. Don't let others tell you that they have more than you, that you're unsuccessful because their car is more expensive than yours. They're usually the unhappy bully in a nice leased ride. They're often the people in the world who aren't the ones contributing anything other than their judgement anyway, so who cares what they think? I have many celebrity friends who deal with being judged all the time. It takes a toll on them, and it just goes with being a public figure. The famous aren't always rich and the rich aren't always famous, so focus on what you've got and not what you don't have in life, because there's always someone who would switch places with you in a second.

For the cynics out there who think mediums and psychics should be 100 per cent, I'd like to talk to the people they've dated and see how the exes would rate our cynics romantically—were they perfect? Most likely not. Were they 100 per cent in school? Certainly not! Would their family say they could have done better in life or been more family-oriented? Probably. Nobody is 100 per cent in life, whether it's at work or in their personal life. Making mistakes is how we learn, and there are no guarantees, so relax and accept that it's the valleys in life that give us character.

Some of us will be born to have long lives and some short lives. Some of us are born to have our own children and some to love others' kids through mentoring. When I was a teenager I wondered why I didn't have blonde hair like Madonna did back then. Now I'm happy to have my red hair. I was meant to be a redhead, not a blonde. We can't always see the big picture of why life's details have to be the way they are, but there's always a beautiful answer off in the distance.

I take the time to watch the wind blow past the tree branches and through leaves like nature's high-speed traffic. I speak my mind even if others would like to edit what comes out of my mouth. I'm drawn to the dead and the dying when others are resistant to them. I'm a mother who gets headaches when her kids fight, but I take it in and recognise that I will miss it one day, miss their being small.

SAY A LITTLE PRAYER

My wise friend Anne Gehman once told me that prayer is talking to God, and meditation is listening to the response. I think a lot of people pray but forget to listen to the answer to their prayers, or fail to see that they received an answer at all. Learning requires observation and listening with your soul.

Let me give you an example to consider. I was lecturing and doing a reading at one of my events in Chicago. I normally open with a meet-and-greet and then move on to the main event. At the end of my meet-and-greet a young woman with a scarf around her head, who was clearly in pain, walked up to my table. I was picking up on her illness and her being challenged to live. After she walked away, I sat back in my chair to try to collect myself. I asked my assistant, Andrea, to ask her if she wanted to come up on stage with me during the event and ask me any questions. I had never done this before, but I was pulled to offer it anyway.

The young woman was with her mother and two sisters, and they clearly adored the one they felt slipping from them.

With her mother's help, she came and sat next to me and, let me just say, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. It truly felt like we were all suspended in time, trying to reach out to her with a spiritual safety net. I brought through her grandparents and she was quite happy about what they had to say and the specifics tied to them. Then she asked me these questions, and I want you to think about them: ‘Am I going to live? Why do I have to die? I want to get married someday and have babies . . .'

What do you say to that? Why her? Why now? These are all questions that we want to answer for her. What would you say to her if you sat in my chair? Think about it. The ill and dying are often overlooked because it hurts too much to have to face mortality. To even know what to say to them can be a challenge. They don't want to be looked at as a shred of the person they were when they were healthy. They still have their identity, their sense of humour; they are still in the game with us. After all, someone battling a disease could live for years and a healthy person could pass in a car accident tomorrow, so it's important to live shoulder to shoulder with everybody else. That's one of the reasons I write my books: to give the living the tools to hold the dying and reconnect with the deceased. And also to reinforce the obvious—which is to live life extraordinarily large.

What did I say to the young woman? Well, I brought through her family members from the other side so she knew they were there for her, and then I conducted a mass prayer for her. When the event was over, she was bombarded by
all
of the people at my event, hugging her, loving her and wishing her the best. She was smiling when she left. Positive energy can work miracles. That young woman changed many lives that night because the people at my event, me included, were paying attention to the lessons we were being taught by her life. We were listening to what the universe was telling us through her. It's a reminder that none of us are guaranteed to grow old or become a parent or walk down the aisle. Take nothing for granted, nothing.

Pray—it works. It helps you to let go of bottled-up problems that bother you. It's good for you physically, mentally and spiritually. Then meditate when you have some quiet time. I think you'll get more than just answers that will benefit you.

Get in tune with the good vibrations around you and embrace who you are. Whether you have ‘abilities' or not makes no difference. Try not to worry about everyone's opinion of you; in the end it doesn't matter. I've never fit in and I get it now. I wasn't supposed to, it was a part of the grand plan. Even as a child, it was constantly pointed out how different I was. I have red hair. I so obviously stood out from the crowd. Strike one! I'm half-Hispanic and half-German. On surveys I ticked the ‘Hispanic' box and the ‘white' box. How could I choose half of me over the other? Strike two! And, ooo-oo-ooh . . . I talk to dead people. Strike three! I'm out of the normal club, immediately disqualified because of my unusual characteristics.

I recently moved to Los Angeles and found out there's an entire city of people who never ‘fit in'. It's the ‘land of misfit toys'! How great is that? So for those of you out there who are unique, congratulations on recognising it, and get comfortable with it, because it's a part of you and one day you'll stumble upon people who totally get you.

I realised that owning my differences is so very empowering. A year ago I was sitting at a dinner table full of Beverly Hills women who were as self-righteous and judgemental as anyone I've met in my life. Apparently, my Michael Kors cardigan wasn't stylish enough to be in their presence: I mean, Michael is only a fashion designer and judge on
Project Runway
—what could he know about fashion? Anyway, they demanded that I ‘prove' my abilities right there at the dinner table . . . not the most polite girls. They said, ‘How can we believe you if you don't show us?'

I told them, ‘Well, I really don't care what you believe. I'm not here for you. I'm here to visit with my friend, not to entertain you.'

I wasn't about to bring through their relatives for them, because a reading is a personal experience not to be taken lightly or demanded. And I don't react well to people who feel entitled to my gift and my time. I have it on good authority that these gals are addicted to psychics. Well, happy hunting, ladies—it's never gonna be me!

I'm taking my daddy's advice. I'm living life large and I won't apologise for who I am, f laws and all. I'm not very good at editing myself, but I'm super at living, and for those who feel like you don't fit in, stop trying to. I swear, being yourself and speaking your mind is like wearing the right size shoe—it's so much more comfortable!

TEACHING KIDS TO COPE WITH LOSS

Children are often the ‘unseen' wounded when someone dies, and it's important to help them to begin to move through the pain any way we can. Grown-ups need to remember to kneel down when dealing with someone smaller than them. Kids need to see you on their own terms and level. Children are natural healers, but they don't always know how to help themselves, so it's our job to guide them and provide them with the support system and coping skills that they need.

For kids who suffer loss, I find that it helps them to have a shirt from the one they miss, mainly because it carries their scent and energy. You can stuff it like a pillow and tie off the ends with string or a ribbon, whatever you fancy. Kids can hold it while they sleep, and it will allow them to feel closer to those they love who are no longer there to hold. Often, by holding on to an object of the deceased at bedtime, it opens a spiritual door for a ‘visit' to take place while sleeping.

I sent my nephew a ceramic angel-shaped keepsake box. I told him that if he wants to give his mum, Deidre, a message, he can write it down and put it in the delicate container. I assured him that his mum would receive his messages. It's not that one must write down the message for it to be heard, but it gives the living a physical connection to the deceased. We need it, the deceased does not, but they still appreciate the sentiment. This gesture is especially helpful for children who lose someone; it gives them back some power, a bit of control in their young life. I also told my nephew that he could write down his life wishes and place them in the angelic keepsake box so his mum knows what his needs are and she can help him make them happen.

I wanted to reach to the other side and pull Deidre back, but who doesn't feel that way when a loved one dies? Often, loss makes us want to rip the roof off heaven and reclaim those we miss. It's unfortunately not how life and death work. We can, however, reach them in other creative ways that draw us close in a different yet profound way. I know children need to have their own grief recognised by others, and they also need to have a physical connection to their lost loved one. So whether you stuff a T-shirt to make a pillow for them to sleep with or give them a special picture in a frame, remember to do
something
. It really is a lifeline for them.

You can reconnect with deceased loved ones by going where they liked to go and acknowledging them when you're there. It's almost like placing a phone call to them, summoning them to be by your side.

I lost my dad, and I like to revisit the restaurants and places that he enjoyed in life. I know he's there and so do my girls. As a matter of fact, while writing this chapter I went to Buffalo, New York, for one of my events. On my last night there I had a seminar at the Hyatt in Buffalo. As I attempted to explain death to my audience, I shared with them that I take my girls for pizza because it reminds me of my dad. He always blotted his pizza with a napkin to get the grease off and, who knows, maybe it bought him some time. So our girls do the same thing; they blot their pizza and laugh, because the thought of Grandpa Mike puts a silly grin on their faces and in their hearts.