Thinking no question was too profound, too intimate or too probing for my son, I posed some real humdingers in a recent channeling session. Brace yourself folks:
‘I think I already asked you this Erik, but why do we choose to have the human experience here on earth? You said something about wanting to experience less control than you have in the spirit world?’ I ask.
“Yes, but the main reason is to evolve and contribute to other fellow souls and to leave the world in better shape than when you came there, to make it less fucked up—to be a light shining in the darkness. I know it sounds corny but that’s what we can do and that’s what we’re supposed to do,” he says, with his characteristic Gandhi-meets-sailor-on-shore-leave style.
‘Okay, I think I understand. Now for a big one, Erik: What or who is God, and have you met him?’ I await his reply with great anticipation. Drum roll, please.
Kim speaks first: “Erik has this really cute mischievous smile on his face, and he tells me he hasn’t figured that one out yet.”
‘Dang!’ I think to myself. ‘No big breakthroughs to share with the globe, today, I guess.’
Kim goes on to ask, “Erik, just wondering, how have you not figured it out yet since you live there?”
“The shape of God changes…”
“Does it?” Kim interrupts him in surprise.
“…according to what you need at the time,” he finishes patiently.
‘Erik, have you seen God? Have you needed him or wanted to speak with him?’ I ask.
“Well, when I first got here, I saw this incredible white light. You know, I’ve been sort of keeping a low profile because of what I did. I was worried for a while that God was really pissed at me, even though I was told over and over and over that God doesn’t get pissed at anyone. So I’ve sort of been keeping it under the radar. But I’ll check it out and get back to you, Mom,” he assures me. Kinda reminds me of his low profile approach to calls for doing his homework and chores or those nights he slipped in the back door past his curfew.
I guess I have to be satisfied with his promises and muster up more patience, but I don’t let him off the hook for long as I ask my next question.
‘Okay, Erik, that’s a deal! Now why were you treated differently from other suicides?’
“Oh, because I wasn’t separated from everyone, and I was allowed to move around freely with everybody else, right? Is that what you mean, Mom?”
Kim laughs, saying, “He’s shrugging and saying, ‘Hell if I know!’”
Hmm. Another empty answer. As wise as he has become as a discarnate soul, I suppose no one, short of God Herself, knows it all.
I probe for more clarification: ‘Well some people kill themselves because they lost a job or lost an investment, whatever, but some kill themselves because they want to end the pain from a troubling disease like cancer or depression. It’s my understanding that those suicides are treated a little bit differently or at least more leniently than those who take their lives for more trivial, superficial or material reasons.’
“Yes, sometimes those aren’t even considered suicide over here. And sometimes it’s someone’s destiny to commit suicide, because that itself is a form of human experience,” he says knowingly.
“If I had stayed there I could have contributed so much more. And when I first got to Heaven I had this terrible regret and remorse. I think that answers your question, Mom. That wasn’t the soundest decision I could have made. That’s why my therapy s being conducted while I’m going around doing whatever I wanna do instead of in a segregated place. I already knew it was a mistake and regretted it and that’s half the battle there,” he adds.
‘Are you making progress forgiving yourself?’ I ask.
Kim sees him with that mischievous charming smile on his face as he says,
“I’m working on that. When we talk like we’ve been doing every day, Mom, and when we work on the book together, that’s how I’m going to be able to forgive myself. Because it won’t be such a waste. I can give back. I can contribute. That makes up for my selfishness. It has nothing to do with you forgiving me, Mom. I know you already have.”
Touched, I reply tearfully, ‘Oh, yeah. Of course I do, Sweetie. All I care about is your happiness, even if it causes me pain. You’ve found the peace, direction and joy you never had here on the earthly plane, so for that, I’d sacrifice anything.’
“Mom, you’re helping to heal me!” he says.
‘Good, and you’re helping to heal me too, Erik! It’s the blind leading the blind!’
I know my sweet Erik is no cross-legged, mountain top guru. After all, God remains a mystery—for now—and we still have no earthly idea what the hokey pokey is all about, but he is a profoundly caring soul who longs to make up for his selfishness by bringing light and love to others.
