Saturday, December 26, 2009

LONG DISTANCE COMMUNICATION

I'd like to post a reply to a comment someone left on one of my stories. It was so lovely to receive her comment that it inspired me to reply here:

Hi Suzanne. I hope you are finding comfort in spite of the loss of your father, comfort in knowing he is not really gone. I have no doubt that he definitely has been contacting you. They want to contact us as much as we want to contact them.

The transition of death is something I think about of my loved ones every single day, because I know that one day I will have to experience it. They say that we should tell our loved ones we love them when they are alive while we have the chance because you just never know when you will lose someone. I'd like to add to that that it is also good to practice nonphysical communication while our loved ones are still physically alive. Nonphysical communication is a way to communicate and works long distance whether the receiver is physically living or dead.

I've found that during those times when it's especially difficult to communicate to someone what you are really feeling, or it's hard to find the right words to say, you can do it nonphysically. That is to say, do it mentally. Your conscious intention and the energy of your thoughts will deliver the message.

Once, many years ago, I was feeling depressed both emotionally and physically. I simply wanted someone to comfort me but I didn't know who to reach out to for it. This feeling dragged on for many days to the point where I was feeling so desperate and often tearful. I thought of calling my dad, knowing that if he knew how I felt he'd know exactly what to say to cheer me up. But my dad had so many health issues that it made me feel selfish wanting to call him for my own needs of comfort. So instead of physically calling dad, I did it mentally. I sat on my bed and allowed myself to feel and express all the emotions associated with what I was feeling and thinking. Then I prayed that dad would get my message.

I am not a religious person, but my use of what God means to me is that God is the greater Consciousness of all of us and includes my higher self and all the spiritual guidance and protection I've ever known in this lifetime. Whatever all that is, I call it God. It's a good enough working definition for this physical lifetime's purposes. I figure if there's more for me to know, it'll come. For now, I just use what I know.

So I sat on my bed and mentally said, "God, I'm feeling so depressed and sad and I just want my dad's comfort. But I can't ask him for it. He's not too healthy and I feel selfish asking him to take care of me. I should be calling only to give love and comfort, not ask for it. Will you please send him my love at this moment and let him know that I need him? I know if I call him right now I'll just cry and I don't want to make him feel bad for me. If you get my message to him, I promise that when I am feeling better I will use that opportunity to call and give him love and comfort."

Putting these feelings into words really made the tears flow. I sat there for a moment allowing all this energy to get expressed and released, and it made me feel better. It helped me put things into perspective a little.

Then I got off my bed and walked to the living room to sit at my computer. The phone began ringing before I could even sit down. I answered, and it was my dad. He said, "Vicky, are you ok? Is something wrong?" I lied and said I was fine. He asked me if I was sure I was ok, because he got a very strong feeling that he needed to call me. Dad said, "It was such a strong feeling that I just knew something was wrong with my little girl. So are you sure you're ok?"

It was at that point that I broke down crying. I couldn't believe what I was hearing from Dad. Not even an entire minute passed between sending my mental message to Dad and him calling me on the phone. Through my tears I managed to explain to Dad how desperately I'd wanted to talk to him on the phone and how much I wanted to hear his love and comfort. I told him about my prayer just a minute ago.

By now Dad was crying too. "I got your message Vicky! I got it loud and clear. I was just sitting here at my desk when I heard "You need to call Vicky!" I knew it wasn't just my imagination. I could feel that something was wrong with you. It hit me so strongly I just picked up the phone and called."

We both cried and laughed and felt so thankful for this amazing experience. It was amazing that Dad had received my message within moments of me mentally sending it, and what's even more amazing is that he listened to it! He didn't just brush it off as "only his imagination". He listened. He followed his feelings. It made for an amazing experience that I'll never forget.

So I did get my comforting phone call from my dad after all. And I'm so thankful it happened the way that it did.

I'd like to say to Suzanne, the person who said she's beginning to believe she's received contact from her deceased father...I know he's receiving your thoughts, prayers, feelings, and emotions. I know that there is no boundary or limitation to the energy of our consciousness and thoughts. I know that nonphysical communication works, whether the person is living or deceased.

And when we are the ones on the receiving end of long distance, nonphysical communication we need to be paying attention. We need to listen to it and trust that it is real. It can come in any way or form and any time. It doesn't matter how contact and communication is made, as long as we recognize it. I truly believe that if one method doesn't get through to us, there will be another one sure to follow. A song on the radio, something we hear someone say, something we read. A thought, feeling, or memory. The possibilities are endless. You'll know it when you receive it. Just like my dad did. He said it hit him loud and clear.

So in whatever way you believe you are receiving a message, just trust and believe in it. Your emotions will tell you what is real to you and what feels right.

Thanks for listening, Dad.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Thank you so much Vicky! Your story brought me to tears. I'll keep listening for and talking to Dad.