They Don't See What I See: How to Talk With Loved Ones Who Have Crossed over - Brossura

Berger, Ruth

Brossura

ISBN 10: 1578632633 ISBN 13: 9781578632633

Casa editrice: Weiser, 2002

Riassunto

Berger tells us there are two main reasons why ghosts contact the living. The living need them. Or the dead need the living to do something. Berger shares actual stories of her conversations with ghosts and how she used those episodes to help the living and the dead. Meet Ellen, a hospitalized 11 year-old whose dead grandfather comforted her after she was abused. And Mary, whose husband contacted Ruth from the grave to prevent their daughter's suicide. With her nononsense style, down-to-earth stories, and helpful hints, Berger demonstrates how almost anyone can learn to listen to the voices that might be trying to reach them from beyond. Each chapter provides steps to "see what I see" to develop channeling abilities. They Don't See What I See also includes tips to prepare for channeling and methods to use while channeling to avoid contacting evil spirits.

Su questo libro

Dalla quarta di copertina

Ruth Berger was afraid of ghosts. For many years, she refused to acknowledge their presence - resisted their presence - even though she had long known of her psychic abilities and made her living as a standup psychic and medical intuitive. When ghosts started to interrupt her shows to give her messages, Ruth finally realized that it was time for her to acknowledge them. She discovered she could use her rare ability to speak to the loved ones of those who had passed on.

Dal risvolto di copertina interno

Ruth Berger was afraid of ghosts. For many years, she refused to acknowledge their presence - resisted their presence - even though she had long known of her psychic abilities and made her living as a standup psychic and medical intuitive. When ghosts started to interrupt her shows to give her messages, Ruth finally realized that it was time for her to acknowledge them. She discovered she could use her rare ability to speak to the loved ones of those who had passed on.

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They Don't See What I See

How to Talk with Loved Ones Who Have Crossed Over

By Ruth Berger

Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC

Copyright © 2002 Ruth Berger
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-57863-263-3

Contents

Acknowledgments
A Note to the Reader
Chapter 1: Understanding the Unknown
Chapter 2: Creating an Intuitive Pathway
Chapter 3: Making the Ghost Connection
Chapter 4: Ghost Training for the Survivors of Suicide/Murder Victims
Chapter 5: Facts & Myths About Ghosts
Chapter 6: The Healing Group Answers Our Most Common Questions
Chapter 7: Messages from Spirits
Chapter 8: Channeling Training
A Final Word

CHAPTER 1

Understanding the Unknown

Just because no one else can see what you see, does not mean there's nothingthere.

Have you ever been awakened by an unexplained noise or felt like someone waswatching you even though there was no one in the room? You just might have had aghostly visitor.

Has your child ever called to you in the middle of the night, crying about amonster in the closet? Was he afraid to sleep in his room even after you assuredhim that you didn't see anything in the closet but his coat? When we don't seewhat they see or hear what they hear, children get frightened. And just becauseyou can't see what your child sees doesn't necessarily mean there's nothingthere. Children see and hear more because they're open psychically.

Carrsen's first word at six months was his grandmother's name. She'd died over ayear before. Penny, age four, had conversations at night with her lategrandmother. Steve, age three, had an imaginary playmate—his uncle who was dead.

At what age do children who talk to ghosts get labeled as having a mentalillness?

Children Who Talk to the Dead: Psychic or Psychotic?

"Go away. You're scaring me," whimpered eleven-year-old Ellen. Her voice wasbarely audible. She'd been curled up in a ball in the corner of her hospitalroom for hours. Tears trickled down her face; her eyes were watery and red. "Idon't want to see you anymore. You're dead. Leave me alone." No one could hearEllen because she was speaking inside her mind.

Down the hall, psychiatric nurses Sheila and Nancy were talking. "Ellen worriesme," said Sheila. "She says her dead grandfather is trying to take her with him.I don't see him, but Ellen is terrified. What do you think?"

"You worry too much," answered Nancy. "Ellen is a sick child with a very activeimagination."

"You're right, but just the same, I'm going to go check on her." Sheila realizedthat at 3:00 A.M., Ellen would probably be asleep, but she was still worriedabout the little girl.

She opened the door to Ellen's room quietly and peered into the darkness. Atfirst she couldn't see anything. After her eyes adjusted, she saw Ellen sittingon the floor in the corner, her eyes wide open in terror.

Sheila, a grandmother, automatically reached out and took Ellen into her armsand began to rock her. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. Nothing can hurt you now."

All night Sheila thought about what to do. In the morning she called me. "Canyou see me today?" said Sheila. "I read in Good Housekeeping that you're amedical intuitive who can talk to ghosts. Can you tell me how to help aterrified eleven-year-old girl in our psychiatric ward who says she sees herdead grandfather? The psychiatrist says the best place for this child is in ourlocked ward, but I disagree. I don't think she's hallucinating. She's a sweetkid and I'm afraid she's going to get worse if she doesn't get help soon."

We set up an emergency appointment for that day. As Sheila walked into myoffice, I noticed her wrinkled brow and tired eyes. "Tell me about your littlegirl. I'm going to close my eyes so I can listen intuitively."

As I listened to Sheila's voice, I tuned in and saw the little girl's face, herterror, and her deceased grandfather standing next to her. I wasn't imagining.The scene was real. After three years of being tested for my psychic abilitiesat a nearby university, I knew when my intuition was accurate. But I needed moreinformation to go further. "Does the child say why he's there?"

"No. She just starts crying whenever he comes near."

"There are two main reasons why ghosts contact the living: the first is that theliving need them," I explained. "The second is that the dead need the living todo something. My medical intuition tells me that this child and her mother aresuffering from mental and physical abuse."

"How do you know that?"

I explained, "I can see a man hitting the child's mother. He's drunk. I see thelittle girl hiding in her bedroom closet."

Sheila interrupted. "You're right. She used to hide there until her mother saidit was safe to come out. What can I do for her?"

"Before I can answer that, I have to find out when the first incident occurred.

"I see the child at six months waking up to loud voices. She doesn't like thesounds. She cries for comfort, but no one comes. That was the first time hergrandfather came to her. She wasn't old enough to realize he was dead and sheallowed his spirit energy to soothe her. She fell asleep. He kept coming untilshe told her mother about his visits. Her mother got afraid and told her tonever let him return. The child trusted her mother and stopped being comfortedby the grandfather, which was a big loss for her. The child needs to trust whatshe sees. At some level, her grandfather is real. Denying what she sees iscreating tremendous fear.

"You can help her by asking her questions," I continued. "What does he looklike? Is his face kind? What is he wearing? Tell the child to say 'I love you'to her grandfather. That will distract her enough to be able to hear what he hasto say. Hold her hand so she won't be afraid. Then tell her to ask him what hewants. Try to understand and don't be frightened. Respond with your love andcommon sense. Once she gets the message, she'll be able to sleep and she'll getbetter."

"I'm not sure I can remember it all. Can I call you if I need more help?"

"Of course."

A week later Sheila called. "I did what you recommended and the child respondedbeautifully. I feel she's got a built-in helper now and I've become a believerin ghosts. Bless you."

* * *

Often I get calls from medical aides, nurses, paramedics, and psychologists whohave hunches or feelings about a patient. They don't necessarily believe inpsychics or medical intuitives, but their desperation leads them to call me.

Children often see ghosts that adults cannot and they get scared when people inauthority do not see the ghosts or understand what to do to help them. Somedoctors call ghost visits hallucinations and prescribe Prozac or Ritalin to stopthe child's visions. They don't realize that tranquilizing the child makes iteasier for ghosts to be seen and heard. The child can't see or hear ghosts whentheir minds are busy thinking about sports, schoolwork, and friends.

I've Been There

I remember being awakened when I was fifteen by a gray cloud pouring through mycloset door toward me. The cloud became larger and thicker until I could see theforms of two robed men coming closer and closer. I pulled the blanket over myhead, but I couldn't breathe. I screamed, "Ma, Pa! Help! They're back again!"

"Not again," my father hollered as he flipped on the light, threw open thecloset door, and checked under my bed. "You're too old to be frightened of thenight. Anyway, there's no one here. Now go back to sleep." He shut off the lightand went back to bed.

Quietly I shut my bedroom door and turned the light back on. I had learned thatas long as the lights were on, they wouldn't come back. I didn't know who I wasmore afraid of—the two strangers whom no one else could see, my father's temper,or my mother making fun of me to my brothers at breakfast.

My family didn't believe me. I couldn't tell my friends for fear they'd make funof me too. Was I imagining the two men? Why couldn't anyone else see them? Whowere they? What did they want?

I wanted to sleep through the night and stop fearing the unknown. I wanted to benormal. Twelve months of these two men waking me up every night was making mewonder if I was losing my mind.

One morning I woke up rested. I'd slept through the night. No one had awakenedme. Excited, I wondered whether it was possible that the two men had left. Thesecond night went by without interruption. Then the third and fourth night, Ibegan to feel optimistic. After two months had passed without a visit from thenight visitors, I stopped counting. They were gone—forever, I hoped. Would theyreturn? I prayed they wouldn't.

How different my life would be today if I'd known then what I know now! I mighthave listened to the ghosts and found answers. Maybe I wouldn't have been soafraid.

Years later I heard my four-year-old daughter talking to someone in her room atnight. I went in and asked who she was speaking with.

"Grandma," she said to me. "She comes every night."

My throat tightened and my eyes flooded with tears. I was terrified, and Ididn't think I believed in life after life. I took her arm and said to her,"Your grandmother is dead. She can't talk to you or anyone else. This is allimaginary, so stop it." When I left her room I was shaking. I remember leaningagainst the wall in the hall outside her door. Through the closed door I heardher say, "Shhh. Mommy's afraid. I'm not. We'll just talk quieter."

Penny wasn't afraid of ghosts. She continued to demonstrate her psychic skillsand opened the door for me to learn about my own intuitive abilities. My childbecame my teacher.

Beyond Chance

"How could my eleven-year-old daughter, Penny, pick 99 percent of the AcademyAward winners?" I asked my coworker Jenny. "The only time she missed was whenshe wanted her favorite star to win."

Jenny, an intelligent, beautiful, slim woman who never appeared to get riled ina crisis, responded eagerly. "Your daughter is psychic," she said. "Intuitionworks best when desire and greed get out of the way.

"I've noticed you've been studying graphology and 'seeing' into the future," shecontinued. "Handwriting analysis shows personality tendencies, not what willhappen tomorrow or the day after. If you're interested in psychic phenomena,I'll bring you a book you may want to read."

Positive she was wrong about the purpose of graphology, I reread every page ofmy $.50 book on the subject. She was right.

The next day Jenny brought me a book about psychic phenomena and placed it on mydesk. I read the entire book that night, unable to put it down. For the firsttime I had an idea of what had been happening to me all my life. In high school,I'd been the resident "Ann Landers." My friends would ask me questions abouttheir love lives and test scores and I'd give them the answers. My classmateshad never helped me the same way so I thought they didn't care. But when I'dread this book, a light went on in my head. I realized they hadn't been able tosee what I saw. I hadn't realized how psychic I was. I got excited. I wanted tolearn more. When my friend asked me to join a study group, I didn't hesitate.

Understanding Sets the Foundation

The weekly sessions with the study group filled my mind and body with love andunderstanding. I was accepted and encouraged to talk about my strangeexperiences here. In this group of women, finally, I could be me.

For the first time I met people who also had unexplained occurrences and talkedabout them without fear of ridicule. I felt safe among these women, my soulsisters, who wouldn't want to lock me up because I saw things they didn't. Noone criticized or laughed at me.

We talked about everything: our fears, dreams, tastes, goals, relationships, anddesires. There were never any putdowns or negative responses to my questions,only intuitive insights on how to accomplish what was needed or wanted. Nosubject was taboo.

We were encouraged to meditate to enhance our connection to the earthly worldand the spirit world. My intuition expanded so rapidly that often I couldn'ttell when I was using my intuition or when I was being logical. The support ofthe group kept me from falling off the cliff of sanity.

Whenever I was afraid, they gave me unconditional love. When something wouldhappen that didn't make sense, they'd help me understand how to use my intuitionto get past my confusion. Slowly, I learned to trust my intuition more fully,and with that trust, came accuracy. During the next two years I read every bookI could find on the paranormal. I couldn't get information fast enough.

All my life I'd been plagued by an eating problem. When someone talked aboutsomething during a meal, I would "see" what they were talking about on my plate.Discussions of surgery made my meat take on the appearance of blood and guts.Conversations about the flu or vomiting would cause me to leave the tablewithout eating.

Reading books about intuition helped me understand why I suffered so much whenpeople talked about these things during meals. I hadn't realized how sensitive Iwas and how simply mentioning something would automatically make me visualizewhat was being said. At least it helped me stay thin for years!

The more I learned, the more I understood. The more I understood, the more I letgo of the pain of being different.

Saved from Poverty by Her Father's Spirit

A group member asked me to do a psychic reading for one of her friends, a womanI'd never met before named Mary. I reluctantly agreed to go to Mary's home andgive her an ESP consultation.

As soon as Mary answered the door I said, "Your husband has a message for you."I don't know why I said it, and I repeated the words again even after she said,"He's been dead for over twenty-five years."

Why was I saying I had a message from a man who had been dead for twenty-fiveyears? The next few words that came out of my mouth were even more bizarre.

"Your husband wants you to believe he's here," I replied. "He says the book withhis favorite poem is still on the end table next to your bed." I couldn't seeher bedroom. How did I know about the book? I was scared. What was going on?

Mary smiled and said, "That book is still there. I read it often, especially hisfavorite poem."

I heard myself ask, "Do you have a candle? It's easier to see spirits when thelights are not so bright."

She went looking for a candle while I waited in the kitchen, half wanting tobolt out of the house. This experience was becoming more than I thought I couldhandle.

Mary returned with the candle and shut off all the electric lights. Suddenly myvoice burst out, "Don't let our daughter sign the papers tomorrow." I didn'tunderstand what was happening. Who was this daughter?

As if Mary could read my mind, she replied, "Our only child lives in California.She's been going through a messy divorce. I'll call her as soon as we're doneand give her the message."

Bewildered, I questioned silently, "What was I doing here?"

During the next hour I repeated his words again and again. "Don't let ourdaughter sign the papers tomorrow." What papers? I had no idea what washappening and didn't want to know. I just wanted the evening to end. Thankfully,we finished and I went home.

The phone was ringing when I arrived at my house. Mary had immediately calledher daughter in California but her daughter didn't know what this "message" wasabout. I was relieved. Now I could just write the experience off as a figment ofmy imagination.

The next morning, Mary called again. "I just got off the phone with my daughter.She forgot about an appointment she had with her lawyer this afternoon. She'sbeen dating him for over a month. She doesn't think there's anything to worryabout but, just in case, I warned her not to sign anything."

I returned home from my secretary's job at 5:00 P.M. to find a message on myanswering machine. Mary wanted me to call her as soon as I could.

My hand shook as I dialed the number. "My husband was right," she said. "Thepapers that Suzy's lawyer wanted her to sign were her divorce papersrelinquishing all financial obligation from her soon-to-be ex-husband.California law dictates that all monetary assets be divided 50/50. Suzy's beendating the attorney so she trusted him and would have signed the papers withoutreading them. Her husband had set the whole thing up. My daughter and her fourchildren would have been left with nothing! I'm so glad you were able to give memy husband's message. We can't thank you enough."

I was glad for Mary's daughter, but I didn't want to talk to her husband again,no matter what the reason. But several days later, Mary's husband suddenlyappeared in my car as I was driving to work. He wanted me to call Mary and tellher Suzy wanted to commit suicide. I told him there was no way I could tell Marythat her daughter, who was 3,000 miles away, was about to kill herself.

"Tell her," he yelled and jabbed my shoulder so hard I swerved and almost had anaccident. "You've got to save my daughter."

"Okay, but on one condition: that you never come see me again." He agreed.

I didn't actually call Mary. I had just said I would to get her husband out ofthe car. But later that afternoon, Mary phoned and asked if I had a message forher. My head felt like a hammer was hitting it straight down the middle.

"Yes," I answered, "call your daughter. Your husband says she's depressed."

An hour later, Mary called again and said, "I am so grateful. If I hadn't calledmy daughter, she said she would have killed herself."

Mary's husband kept his word. I never saw him again. Without her father'sintervention through me, Suzy would have been broke. She didn't know about theattorney's deception and neither did her mother. I wasn't mind reading, orstorytelling. I hadn't imagined Mary's husband in the car with me. His messagewas factual.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from They Don't See What I See by Ruth Berger. Copyright © 2002 Ruth Berger. Excerpted by permission of Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Dettagli dell'edizione

• Editore: Weiser
• Data di pubblicazione: 2002
• Lingua: Inglese
• ISBN 10: 1578632633
• ISBN 13: 9781578632633
• Rilegatura: Copertina flessibile
• Numero di pagine: 144
• Contatto del produttore: non disponibile
• Persona responsabile: non disponibile