Love Hurts
By Summer Bacon
Phil wasn't a person I could size up very easily when we first met. He was an average 77 year old man who was unusually quiet and pensive. I imagined he carried some very deep pain inside that he’d hidden from the world for years. He came to my house for a session, back in the days when I didn’t charge for my work as a trance medium. In fact, I was vehemently opposed to charging for my work.As a result, it seemed there was an endless stream of people coming into my house for sessions—days, nights and weekends. I channeled during breaks from my work as a graphic designer and writer. I channeled while dinner cooked and my very young children watched television. I just couldn’t say no.
Until I met Phil.
You see, when I first started channeling, Dr. Peebles was simply a “gatekeeper.” He would determine who I would channel, and for whom. As a result, I channeled everybody and their brother. I channeled dearly departed loved ones. I channeled birds. I channeled Looney Toons (honest). I channeled the sun, my cat, a laser printer named Percy (who told its owner how to fix it), Galileo, Copernicus, John Lennon... you get the point.
When dearly departed loved ones came into my body, they often arrived with the pain of their deaths. Since I was much closer to the process of channeling in those days, I could FEEL their pain. Heart attacks, drownings, suicides... a point of great confirmation for the humans who were watching and listening. But, it was emotionally and physically exhausting for me. Despite the pain, however, I just couldn’t say no.
Until I met Phil’s father.
Phil sat quietly during his session. Two other people were in attendance, and they were doing all the talking, asking to speak to assorted relatives (plus a rat they had just buried who bitterly complained because he’d been buried upside down—a moment of joyful confirmation that they were talking to the right rat).
Finally, Dr. Peebles entered my body towards the end of the session. Without missing a beat he turned to Phil and said, “Phil, do you have a question?” Phil was startled. “A..as a matter of fact I do NOW!” he said, quite surprised that Dr. Peebles would know, “I’d like to talk to Elmer Sills.”
Elmer appeared behind me almost immediately. It’s hard to explain, but when I’m in trance it’s like being backstage. I can see the spirits who are there. I’m with them, in a sense. I could see that Elmer was in very bad shape. He’d been shot, put in a truck that was rolled off a cliff, and then his body was dumped by some train tracks. In a word, he’d been murdered. I knew it. And, worse yet, I knew that Phil didn’t know it. Elmer told me that Phil was his son. I argued with Elmer, “No way am I going to channel you! Your son doesn’t know you were murdered, and YOU are not about to tell him that!” (Although I knew that Elmer was doing just fine now, I was deeply concerned about how Phil would react.) Dr. Peebles and Elmer sidled up to me with love and tenderness. “Please, Summer. We know what we’re doing.”
I could feel how important this was. I thought of Phil. I thought of the pain I’d have to endure to allow for this to occur. I thought of the pain that Elmer was carrying. I thought of the prospect of something being resolved. Something beyond my own comprehension. Closure for people here and on the other side. How could I say no? Love pervaded the moment and won.
Elmer came into my body. It hurt. It hurt like hell, because he was still carrying his pain so that he would never forget what happened. So he could have a little chat with the men who had killed him, once they joined him on the other side.
“Hello, son,” said Elmer carefully and lovingly. The joy of recognition radiated from Phil. I could feel it.
“Dad,” Phil said with a gasp.
“You are here because you want to know how I died.”
“Yes,” said Phil softly.
“As you suspected, I was murdered.”
You could have felt the weight drop from Phil’s shoulders. An awareness and understanding he’d carried with him since the age of ten: that his daddy had been murdered. He knew it. They’d lied. He was right all along, and no one would listen to him. It was a botched financial deal that led Elmer to his early grave. And now, 67 years later, because love won, dear Phil was free of his burden.
I didn’t channel again for six months. I cried for days. Oh, I learned to say no, but not for long. I returned to channeling and I said Yes, over and over again. I couldn’t help it. Who could?
It was by saying Yes to this parade of spirits that I learned to surrender to life and learned to love with more depth than I ever imagined was possible. No matter who. No matter what. Because life, at its best and most fulfilling, is really about saying Yes.
Yes to Life. Yes to Love. Even when it hurts. Thanks Phil. Thanks Elmer.