My Son And The Afterlife 3111g

MY SON AND T HE AF T ER LIF E CONVERSATIONS FROM THE OTHER SIDE

ELISA MEDHUS, MD

AT R I A

PA P E R B A C K New York London Toronto Sydney New Delhi

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Hillsboro, Oregon

4/22/13 12:30 PM

FOREWORD by ERIK MEDHUS (AS TRANSLATED BY JAMIE BUTLER)

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y life has never really been what I would consider ordinary. I now have an extraordinary life in the afterlife, and I find myself explaining and sharing my journey. I did not have a life’s path on Earth, but now I am grateful to say I define myself by the work I do. Despite all the pain and suffering our family has gone through, I know in my soul, my death was timely. It triggered my scientifically minded mother to research grief and death. It led her to ask questions and to discover how to continue a relationship with a deceased son. In the middle of all this, she ended up giving us both a voice with which to help others learn about death, afterlife, suicide, grief, and communication. I could not have done this without my mother. Mom, I love you so much. Thank you for not giving up on me, even through death. Love does triumph over all. I also want to tell my family “thank you.” I love you more than you know. I am with you every step of the way.

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s a mother, I found it painful to watch my children struggle. As a physician, this pain was compounded by the fact that I couldn’t “fix” my son Erik, who struggled daily with demons that tormented him mercilessly. Along with learning difficulties and Tourette’s syndrome, he also suffered from severe bipolar disorder, a vicious monster that carried him into the darkest, deepest caves from which he eventually never surfaced. Bipolar disorder can be a terminal disease, and, in Erik’s case, it was. One beautiful autumn day, I found him dead, sitting in his chair after putting a .45-caliber hollow-point bullet through his brain. At that point, my life changed from the “before” to the “after.” I plunged not only into grief and despair but also into a vacuum devoid of any belief system that would answer what would become the most important question of my life: Where is my son? As a physician with a strong science background, who was raised by two atheists, I found it difficult to know where to start my search. I didn’t even know whether there was anything to search for. So, I did what I do best: I turned to science. I devoured hundreds of books and s by quantum and theoretical physicists and neardeath experiencers. I reviewed controlled, double-blind experiments conducted on spiritual translators, and I explored scientific studies on xix

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the survival of consciousness after death. Even before Erik died, I always wondered: Is there more to life than what is contained in the limited, three-dimensional reality we perceive with our five senses? If we limit our beliefs to those engrained in us by the material sciences and by most organized religions, we are left with so many unexplained phenomena. Why are some spirit translators uncannily accurate? Why do some children recount such compelling past life stories? Why are some near-death experiences so hard to dismiss as delusional? Because of my strong science background, I always felt at odds with spiritual matters, but I was also familiar with the concept of Occam’s razor: The most plausible answer is that which explains the most and assumes the least. For me, to believe in the survival of consciousness after death honored this concept. Maybe the world wasn’t flat after all. Why are people like me so skeptical about the spiritual and paranormal? Because we label something as “real” only when we can observe it directly with our senses or with a measuring device that delivers the information to our senses in some way. Thomas Campbell, experimental nuclear physicist and author of My Big TOE (Theory of Everything), explains it like this: We are like our intestinal bacteria. For all we know, the bread that comes down to us is manna from Heaven. We know nothing of the sowing of the seeds, the irrigation, the crop rotation, the fertilization and pest control, the harvesting, the production of bread and its transportation to market. But it still affects us, the bacteria.1 That said, there is much out there that exists and affects us all even though we cannot perceive it with our senses. Other dimensions, including the one my son is in, may be one such thing. But a big ship changes its course very slowly, and, as the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer is often attributed to have said, “All truth es through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”2 As an open-minded skeptic now equipped with scientific studies— including research on translators—that ed my hypothesis, I

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began my search for a gifted translator who could give voice to my son. I found exactly what I set out to find in Jamie Butler. In our sessions, she perfectly captured Erik’s irreverent personality, and the chemistry between the two was clearly special, like an older sister and her pestering little brother. With the information I gathered from those sessions, I began my blog, Channeling Erik: Conversations with My Son in the Afterlife. At first, the blog was a way to vent my grief, as well as a way to continue a relationship with my son, but as the hip grew, I was amazed by how many people found solace in my daily posts. For some, the blog was life saving. Literally. Eventually, the blog and I began to ask Erik questions, and those answers provided us with comfort and hope. Throughout this book, he describes the death process, the nature of afterlife, the abilities and activities of an untethered soul, the fate of suicides, and the meaning of life and the human experience, as well as other matters. On the subject of suicide, Erik adamantly makes a case against it. Over and over again, he says that when you take your life, your troubles don’t end; you take them with you. Furthermore, you leave a world of grief in your wake, which only compounds your pain. How well I can attest to that. Erik would be the first to it that he is no Oracle of Delphi. He’s a flawed human being who, like many of us, has battled his own dragons. He has stumbled and failed over and over. But perhaps because of his foibles, he has a deep understanding of the human experience. He knows what it’s like to be neck-deep in a foxhole of misery, clawing to pull himself out. He also knows what it’s like to feel hopelessness, to give up, to believe that life is not worth the pain and setbacks. But these trials and tribulations offer another type of wisdom—one many of us can relate to in the shadow of our own hardships. That said, however young, flawed, and imperfect, Erik has a voice worth hearing. He is one of us.

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As a physician, writing this book has been a healing experience for me; it is in my nature to heal, and, by helping others, I heal my own wounds as well. As a mother, writing this book has taught me an important lesson. Death does not mean the end of a relationship. Love knows no boundaries—not even death. It is my hope that you Erik and me on this journey. I invite you to consider this book a guide to the afterlife—a handbook of sorts, in which you can refer to specific chapters time and time again. At times you will cry. At times you will laugh. At times you will pause in wonderment. Some of you are bereaved like me. Some of you wish to overcome a fear of death. Some of you yearn to see the bigger picture, to grasp the meaning of life and death. Whatever your motives, together we will explore the meaning of the human experience, the nature of the death process, the proof and architecture of the afterlife, the survival of the soul and consciousness, and the physics behind it all. Like me, many of you will begin this journey as skeptics. It is my hope that we will end that journey together in peaceful enlightenment.

How This Book Works A large part of my journey from skeptic to believer required answers from the “other side”—conversations with someone who, at first, I wasn’t sure even existed: my son. Much of this book is comprised of transcripts of these conversations with Erik, which were facilitated by his spiritual communicators and translators, Jamie Butler and Kim O’Neill. On that subject, “forewarned is forearmed” as they say, so I’d like to mention that, in these conversations, Erik is very much himself, including a bit of classic Erik “sailor talk,” so please be aware that you will encounter some at-times colorful language as Erik speaks his mind. That said, I invite you to listen in while Erik, Jamie, Kim, and I (referred to as “Me” in the transcripts) engage in dialogue that is infor-

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mative, occasionally irreverent and even challenging, often intimate, sometimes heartbreaking, and always illuminating. I encourage you to use this book as you see fit: as a reference book for skipping around to particularly relevant sections or points of interest, or as a traditional cover-to-cover reading experience. My goal is for you to find a complete guide to death and the afterlife in between the front and back covers of this book—a compendium of information to which you can refer over and over again.

The Skeptical Mind: My Journey to Belief Being raised by two atheists was, in many ways, like housing the mind in an iron box with no windows or doors. It did have its advantages. I didn’t have to think or question. My mind was closed to the two-way flow of all ideas related to life after death. On the other hand, it left me with no tools with which to explore that subject. Throughout my life, I have encountered many examples of the existence of life after death, but my doubts have tested the sturdiness of my iron box. For example, I stumbled upon a television show covering the many uncanny visions and predictions of Edgar Cayce, American psychic and founder of the Association for Research and Enlightenment. I read a fascinating New York Times article about toddler twins found inexplicably speaking the ancient language of Aramaic. I encountered a news report about a Seattle woman who had a near-death experience following a heart attack. While allegedly in an out-of-body state, the woman noticed a tennis shoe, with the laces folded underneath the heel, stuck on a ledge of the hospital’s third floor. The exact shoe was later retrieved by hospital staff, from the exact location the woman specified. Although I couldn’t explain the uncanny accuracy of some spiritual communicators’ predictions, the seemingly indisputable s of near-death experiencers, and extraordinary past-life stories told by children, I remained stubbornly closed-minded. And because of that bias,

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I harbored insensitive thoughts toward others. For example, whenever people spoke of energy healing, past-life regression, or spirit translator, I dismissed them as New Age, airy-fairy kooks, or I envisioned gypsies hunched over crystal balls. Also, the closed-minded lifestyle I led sometimes caused me pain. For example, my father’s first words to me after Erik died were, “I’m sorry, Elisa, but he’s going to turn to dust.” Oh, how I wanted to believe he was wrong. I have been an internist, certified by the American Board of Internal Medicine, for over half of my life, with decades devoted to a private practice. Biology, biochemistry, pharmacology, pathology, physiology, and other branches of the sciences are practically a part of my DNA. In fact, science is squeezed so tightly between those double helices that I thought there was no room for what I once considered “nonsense.” This point of view only served to further reinforce that iron box of skepticism. Again, the fact that I couldn’t perceive my deceased son with any of my senses challenged everything I had learned throughout my education. How could I possibly redefine my entire identity as a scientist, a doctor, and a skeptic? But after Erik died, he started to present himself to family and friends. Erik visited them in vivid, profound dreams and even started to play mischievous pranks. It seemed like almost everyone was enjoying his presence but me. I felt jealous, because, after all, I was his mother. I could have dismissed them as completely deluded, but I knew these people weren’t crazy, especially not my husband. He’s as rational and sane as they come. These experiences, coupled with my exhaustive research, marked the beginning of my internal tug-of-war between wary skepticism and belief. I have always been critical of physicians who make up their minds about a patient’s diagnosis after reading his or her chart, even before the interview or examination. I pride myself on keeping an open mind while listening to my patients, and on tapping into my own intuition. As I began to question my skepticism surrounding the concept of life

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after death, I asked myself: Did I really want to be one of those people who insisted that the Earth was flat? Still, I didn’t want to acquiesce. I clung to my disbelief like a tenacious bulldog, because to believe, only to then be proven wrong, would be to lose Erik all over again. I just couldn’t bear that. As my grief began to lift ever so slightly, I finally started to receive visits and pranks from Erik. Later, I learned that profound grief is a dense wall that makes communication with the deceased difficult, if not impossible. This is how my journey from closed-mindedness to cautious, open-minded skepticism began, and all it took was a bit of faith. Now my iron box has windows and doors. That said, everyone has a vested interest in whether there is something more after death, but closed-minded skeptics, like the former me, are oftentimes too afraid to trust the research, their intuition, or any shred of evidence. If they were to find out the truth, it would require a paradigm shift of massive proportions. I know, I’ve done it. It takes courage and strength to trust, to have faith, and to be completely open. Now, at last, I have these things. The purpose of this journey is to share what I have found along the way with those who may be traveling down a similar path.

From Erik: A Case against Suicide Through death, I have learned that you can’t look at one answer for life’s many questions and assume that it’s going to fit everyone. Even things that we consider to be pretty constant, like time, aren’t. What I have gathered about life is that we as people are gathering together in difficult circumstances to relearn what love is. Love of the self, of others, of our surroundings, of animals, plants, and inanimate items—the list goes on. All things on Earth can be loved and can receive love. When we are learning about love, we learn to place no judgment; we learn to be resilient and let the pain of life and others move through us, and we learn to accept life as it is without forcing shit to happen.

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We are very much in control of what we can be; the rest is a strong yet delicate fabric of energy that weaves us around each other. If we choose to ignore this energy, it will be the one thing that suffocates us. I will not stand around and condone suicide, nor will I be the guy who tells you that suicide is for the weak. I will not say suicide is honorable, either. I will say that suicide is a way out of life. It is a self-expression, one that is very clear. It says, “I am done.” Suicide is a personal choice and it’s not up to you to judge the person who chooses suicide. We are all looking for love, not judgment. In retrospect, I see that the struggle of life on Earth has powerful meaning. I would encourage those who are considering suicide, or who have thought of suicide as a choice, to set it aside. Try your hand at being loved. The ultimate goal is to live out your life and experience love on Earth. All we can do is our personal best. Don’t limit yourself.

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