School Marm Erik

So Erik, who do you hang out with, when you’re not haunting your incarnated friends?

“Haunting”, is not a kosher description, Kate.  (doing his uptight politically-correct impression, teasing) It’s “cross-incarnation communication”.  See?  Clear as mud!  Just like all this new-age shit. 

So I can actually answer your question for once:  I hang out with a lot of people that I wished I’d known in “real life” like, fantasized knowing (flashes faces at me, but it’s a really beautiful effect – like a perfectly dark room and the spotlight grazes across different faces as though they were being illuminated on stage.  The only faces I recognize is Kurt Cobain, and Jimi Hendrix.)

Hang out?  Well, yeah.  Hang out.  You think they played good when they were alive?  Fuck!  I play guitar, you know, because I always wanted to be that kind of cool.  At least these guys, in their own (dark inner lives) had this outlet and looked fuckin’ cool, you know?  But DAMN!  I am too damn embarrassed to even really try around those guys, you know?  I can’t even *imagine* some of the things these guys do.  You should go to sleep sometime and crash a jam session.  I’ll see if I can get you in!  *wink*

Hey, if you help me remember it, I’ll write about it.

Sometimes, being dead for a while can become your best fantasy.  The only real limitation is that there *aren’t* any actual limitations, so (shows me the classic hedonist – a roman noble reclining on a chaise lounge getting fed peeled grapes by a gaggle of busty, half-nude women)

Hmm, it’s kind of like a rich guy saying that “money doesn’t buy happiness”

It doesn’t.  (deadpan)

And death doesn’t buy happiness either?

I’m going to be Mr. Cheezeball and reiterate that no, death doesn’t buy happiness.  Happiness is something you give to yourself.  Even if you’re homeless, even if you’re dying of rectal cancer – there can be “grace” there, you know?  (flashes me the image of a kind man I knew who died this way.  Grace described him.)

How do we find grace?  I mean, I know a lot of people find that space after they have accepted their own mortality, in the face of an illness like cancer.  But what if you don’t want the experience of the illness?

Thing is, a lot of people manifest this illness and impending death period just to give themselves fucking PERMISSION to do what they want for a while.  So, you think about what you let go of when you’re dying or dead.  What are the things that don’t fuckin’ matter when you’re on your death bed?  What are the only things that count?

It’s who’s there with you, who cares for you, who gives a shit about you, and who you give a shit about. 

It’s fuckin’ Mr. Cheezeball, I know!  It’s (that Christmas movie, it’s a wonderful life).  The thing is, I can only say the same things others have said, over and over again.  The answers are already out there – the question is:  what stands between *you* and happiness?  And whatever the answer is, you put it there.  (gently, speaking)  You did, one way or another.

It’s kind of a brutal teaching, and I *have* heard it a million different ways.

It’s honestly not that brutal, it just seems brutal if you’re in that place where you’re stressing about all that shit that doesn’t matter when you’re dying.  Fuckin’ retirement funds and interest payments, a job that is sucking up your life but you keep it for whatever reason. 

If you’re regularly doing something that you would *not* be doing if you were dying, you gotta think twice about that.

You know, I’ve gotten less cynical in the past few years, particularly in the past year – but yeah.  There is so much inside of me that is arguing with what you just said.

Well, just ask yourself that question.

I actually found I spent a good 30 minutes thinking about what I’d do or change, and immediately arguing with myself about why I don’t do that now.  I got so locked up in this question, I lost the connection to Erik for a bit.

So, (Oh hilarious – Erik is dressed like a school-marm and has a HUUUUGE bubble butt under an enormous, garish plaid skirt, opaque beige tights, black shoes with a thick short heel (think nun shoes) a white blouse over low-hanging, huge boobs buttoned right up to the neck, gold-framed glasses with a pearl necklace hanging off of them so the glasses can hang off the neck, and grey-streaked hair in a tight bun.  It’s like that Edie Murphy movie where you can just *barely* see the guy in the costume.)

I am giving you a homework assignment.  (taps a wooden pointer on a chalk board, on which is written-)

Write down what you would do if you knew you were dying. (a thousand hands in the classroom shoot up – what kind of dying?  Asking for limitations around this question.  She shakes her head and says you invent your own dying situation, if you need one.)

I will require your assignments on my desk by the end of next week.  Good night children!  (winks) (bops my head, this one’s done.)

Kate Sitka is a spirit medium and animal communicator located in Tofino, British Columbia.  To learn more about her and her work, please visit her professional website: her personal blog: and the Joyful Telepathy Foundation facebook group.

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Elisa Medhus

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