Hanging on

The energies of others are only beneficial when they are loving energies. Love can help the dying person make peace with life—and with death. Unfortunately, the “love” of many friends and family members isn’t always so loving. People often hold on to the dying, not to help them on their journey, but because of their own fears, neediness, or sense of incompleteness. They might actually pull energy from the dying person, or worse, place their own burdens on the dying soul.

My business assistant, Wendy, is also a healer and a grief counselor, and frequently talks about the latter work. Several dying clients have actually told her that they can’t die because a loved one won’t let them. One client said that she couldn’t die because her daughter didn’t want to deal with sexual abuse issues with the father. Another client said that he intuitively felt that his adult son didn’t want him to die because he would then have to grow up and deal with financial matters on his own. I had one dying client tell me that she was ready to die but couldn’t because her children would fight; she was the peacemaker in the family and they didn’t get along without her intervention. These stories indicate the kinds of unfair responsibilities we can place on the dying, whose job is to leave gracefully, not remain among the living. The real problem with these intruding energies is that they create conflict within the dying person’s system and can lower the tone of his or her energetic patterns, potentially interfering with a smooth transition. Interference of this kind can also make it harder for a passing soul to select an appropriately high Plane for ascension.

While the living might weigh down the dying, sometimes the opposite occurs. One story stands out in particular. Joe was a forty-five-year-old single man whose parents had died years earlier within a year of one another. He was an only child. Since their deaths, he had been clinically depressed, unable to attract a romantic relationship, and afflicted with chronic fatigue syndrome as well as grueling nightmares. In his dreams he was a soldier, killing without mercy. Joe would wake up sweating and feeling guilty about his participation in these nightly wars.

An idea struck me: what if these disturbances were inherited from his parents, rather than machinations of Joe’s own soul? When someone dies, I have learned, the loved ones normally go through a year of conflict, illness, and depression, but not for almost seven years. To check out my theory, I had Joe visualize the locations of his parents’ souls. He found them together, hovering just outside his auric field. Each was attached to one of his adrenal glands and pouring dark-colored energy into them.

I asked Joe to describe the energies being sent into him by his parents. His mother’s energy was depressed and made Joe feel fatigued. He guessed that this was the source of his chronic fatigue, and perhaps some of his depression. His father’s energy was heavy with memories of his involvement in the Korean War. Was this the origin of Joe’s wartime dreams? Joe agreed that no matter what, he needed to release himself from his parents and their problems, but he didn’t want to hurt them. Ultimately, Joe felt comfortable calling upon Si Baba, his guru, who lovingly detached his parents from his body and sent them to the White Light. Joe’s symptoms ceased within a few days and have not returned.

Joe’s parents hadn’t wanted to make him ill. At some level, they thought that by holding on they were helping him. And Joe didn’t mean to “get them stuck” either, but by allowing their attachment, he was keeping them from moving on their own path.

All content copyright Cyndi Dale