The sky's the limit, Alex! I love you and miss you, my Allie Cat. (Photo courtesy of Blair Carl.)
My beloved kitty, Alex.
The Great and Wondrous Fall
By Summer Bacon
"Sometimes you must descend into the pit, before you can ascend to the top of the mountain," our family friend, Swami Parampanthi once told me. It's what Eckart Tolle and others calls, "The Dark Night of the Soul" (http://www.eckharttolle.com/newsletter/october-2011) "a term used to describe what one could call a collapse of a perceived meaning in life…an eruption into your life of a deep sense of meaninglessness.."
I must admit, this is what I have been experiencing these past few weeks, but I believe I am emerging victorious in this time of rebirthing of the authentic self, which Dr. Peebles talks about in the 9-month Seasons of the Soul teaching series, "A Journey into Wholeness."
You see, in the past three years I have had over 20 family member and cherished friends die, some quite unexpectedly. I cared for my father who landed in the hospital with a spinal injury after the death of my mother. My daughter got married (yay!), and then moved away. :( And, finally, I got my things that had been put into storage in 2009 when I lost my home (yay). Now I have to sort through them. :(
Needless to say, a lot of ups and downs. It's what Dr. Peebles forewarned me about nearly 27 years ago through trance medium, Thomas Jacobson. He called it, "The Cellars and Ceilings of Summer."
As I already mentioned in my last letter to you, this past week has been full of rapid changes, including losing my kitty, Alex, who ran away.
Today, while soaking in the tub (a great place for prayer and meditation), I asked Dr. Peebles to help me with my life. I have been working on a new form of channeling that I can do for myself without exhausting myself. I relax my body, and simply allow him to take over the muscles in the area of my mouth, throat, etc. There's a feeling of detachment that I love in doing this, and there is the bonus of being able to hear everything Dr. Peebles says to me, though I don't necessarily retain the exact phrasing after I come out of this kind of trance. (Yes, in the future I'll do this and record it for myself). My mouth moves effortlessly, and there isn't that classic groan of energy that you hear before and after the sessions. It happens almost like a sigh.
Well, today Dr. Peebles talked to me about many things, and I felt this calmness and serenity come over me. One of the things he mentioned was my kitty, Alex. "Alex is not alive at this time, Summer, and there is very little chance he will return…in the same body." I asked him what happened, and he said that Alex fell to his death. Now, you'd have to understand Alex, my crazy kitty with an insatiable taste for adventure and heights. He was literally capable of jumping up and standing on the top of an open door! The higher he went, the happier he was. And here in beautiful Arizona, with the cliffs and trees, I realized Dr. Peebles was speaking truth, although I was more certain that Alex might have been eaten by the coyotes. Dr. Peebles said, "No, he was not eaten by coyotes, Summer. He fell."
I was now suddenly quite astonished because one of my dearest friends, Doug, a man who had the soul and heart of an angel, fell 60 feet to his death while climbing our local Thunder Mountain for the 1,135th time. He, and my then-boyfriend, Don, had taken me and my brother to the top of that mountain for my 50th birthday, and it was an arduous and sometimes treacherous hike that had the payoff of breathtaking views at the top. (Gary Coleman had died on or around my birthday, and for some reason my giddy companions on the hike teased about how he was watching over me, and therefore there was no need to be afraid. You'll see his image as part of the video.)
Many people who knew Doug immediately knew that, though it was horrific and disturbing to hear of his death, at least he died doing something he loved.
I asked Dr. Peebles, "What is the meaning of having two of my beloveds fall to their death?"
Dr. Peebles replied, "It is symbolic for you of falling more deeply into yourself, finding your adventurous spirit again, and doing the things you love." I am notorious for taking care of others and neglecting myself, and this lesson has come up for me big tiime in the past few weeks. I suddenly had the joy in knowing that both Doug and Alex died in joy, not in pain, and I could see their angelic forms releasing from their bodies in a great whoosh of wonder.
Dr. Peebles continued, "Alex had a great need to live life on his own terms, in his own way, without worrying about consequences." In other words, Alex was true to himself. He was living life authentically.
I felt greatly encouraged by Dr. Peebles' words to me. He then told me that Alex would come back, and that I should take care in watching which kitty next appears in my life, for it will be him in a different body, but that my other kitty, Franny, would recognize him. Can you imagine how delighted I feel at that prospect? :)
Life can sure dish out some tough lessons. But, if we can still ourselves, go within, ask the questions knowing that everything is in right order no matter what, and listen for the answers, we can pass through the difficult times with greater ease. (Yes, I know, it's easier said than done, often times.)
Last year, my beloved friend George who was like a second father to me when I was growing up, popped out of a coma-like state at the rest home, picked up the phone and called me. I did not know at the time that he had not been lucid in months, since we had lost touch with each other.
"George! I'm so glad you called! I've missed you!" I exclaimed with delight.
George proceeded to admonish me in a most loving way, "Stop devaluing yourself, Summer. You are so giving to everyone. You give so much because you are afraid that, if you don't, they will abandon you." My jaw just dropped open as he continued his "reading" of me.
When our conversation was finished, I said, "Thank you so much, George. I love you so much."
To which he replied, "Do me a favor, Summer. More than loving me, love yourself."
George passed away a week later.
Yes, there has been a lot of loss these past few years, and I know that many of you have been experiencing similar losses in various areas of your life. When I reflect on the losses, I feel sad. But then, I realize that I am so blessed to have known so many amazing, beautiful, incredibly insightful and loving people, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
In every tragedy, there are great lessons. I allow myself to be profoundly human and mourn and cry and even get angry. Yet, at the same time, I know that there is a reason for everything, and I know that God is good. Without the great losses I have experienced lately, I might not have taken the time to figure out a way to channel for myself in a way where I can participate, listen, and learn with greater ease on my body.
Stay tuned. This new realm of trance will soon be opening up a whole new world to all of us.
By Summer Bacon
"Sometimes you must descend into the pit, before you can ascend to the top of the mountain," our family friend, Swami Parampanthi once told me. It's what Eckart Tolle and others calls, "The Dark Night of the Soul" (http://www.eckharttolle.com/newsletter/october-2011) "a term used to describe what one could call a collapse of a perceived meaning in life…an eruption into your life of a deep sense of meaninglessness.."
I must admit, this is what I have been experiencing these past few weeks, but I believe I am emerging victorious in this time of rebirthing of the authentic self, which Dr. Peebles talks about in the 9-month Seasons of the Soul teaching series, "A Journey into Wholeness."
You see, in the past three years I have had over 20 family member and cherished friends die, some quite unexpectedly. I cared for my father who landed in the hospital with a spinal injury after the death of my mother. My daughter got married (yay!), and then moved away. :( And, finally, I got my things that had been put into storage in 2009 when I lost my home (yay). Now I have to sort through them. :(
Needless to say, a lot of ups and downs. It's what Dr. Peebles forewarned me about nearly 27 years ago through trance medium, Thomas Jacobson. He called it, "The Cellars and Ceilings of Summer."
As I already mentioned in my last letter to you, this past week has been full of rapid changes, including losing my kitty, Alex, who ran away.
Today, while soaking in the tub (a great place for prayer and meditation), I asked Dr. Peebles to help me with my life. I have been working on a new form of channeling that I can do for myself without exhausting myself. I relax my body, and simply allow him to take over the muscles in the area of my mouth, throat, etc. There's a feeling of detachment that I love in doing this, and there is the bonus of being able to hear everything Dr. Peebles says to me, though I don't necessarily retain the exact phrasing after I come out of this kind of trance. (Yes, in the future I'll do this and record it for myself). My mouth moves effortlessly, and there isn't that classic groan of energy that you hear before and after the sessions. It happens almost like a sigh.
Well, today Dr. Peebles talked to me about many things, and I felt this calmness and serenity come over me. One of the things he mentioned was my kitty, Alex. "Alex is not alive at this time, Summer, and there is very little chance he will return…in the same body." I asked him what happened, and he said that Alex fell to his death. Now, you'd have to understand Alex, my crazy kitty with an insatiable taste for adventure and heights. He was literally capable of jumping up and standing on the top of an open door! The higher he went, the happier he was. And here in beautiful Arizona, with the cliffs and trees, I realized Dr. Peebles was speaking truth, although I was more certain that Alex might have been eaten by the coyotes. Dr. Peebles said, "No, he was not eaten by coyotes, Summer. He fell."
I was now suddenly quite astonished because one of my dearest friends, Doug, a man who had the soul and heart of an angel, fell 60 feet to his death while climbing our local Thunder Mountain for the 1,135th time. He, and my then-boyfriend, Don, had taken me and my brother to the top of that mountain for my 50th birthday, and it was an arduous and sometimes treacherous hike that had the payoff of breathtaking views at the top. (Gary Coleman had died on or around my birthday, and for some reason my giddy companions on the hike teased about how he was watching over me, and therefore there was no need to be afraid. You'll see his image as part of the video.)
Many people who knew Doug immediately knew that, though it was horrific and disturbing to hear of his death, at least he died doing something he loved.
I asked Dr. Peebles, "What is the meaning of having two of my beloveds fall to their death?"
Dr. Peebles replied, "It is symbolic for you of falling more deeply into yourself, finding your adventurous spirit again, and doing the things you love." I am notorious for taking care of others and neglecting myself, and this lesson has come up for me big tiime in the past few weeks. I suddenly had the joy in knowing that both Doug and Alex died in joy, not in pain, and I could see their angelic forms releasing from their bodies in a great whoosh of wonder.
Dr. Peebles continued, "Alex had a great need to live life on his own terms, in his own way, without worrying about consequences." In other words, Alex was true to himself. He was living life authentically.
I felt greatly encouraged by Dr. Peebles' words to me. He then told me that Alex would come back, and that I should take care in watching which kitty next appears in my life, for it will be him in a different body, but that my other kitty, Franny, would recognize him. Can you imagine how delighted I feel at that prospect? :)
Life can sure dish out some tough lessons. But, if we can still ourselves, go within, ask the questions knowing that everything is in right order no matter what, and listen for the answers, we can pass through the difficult times with greater ease. (Yes, I know, it's easier said than done, often times.)
Last year, my beloved friend George who was like a second father to me when I was growing up, popped out of a coma-like state at the rest home, picked up the phone and called me. I did not know at the time that he had not been lucid in months, since we had lost touch with each other.
"George! I'm so glad you called! I've missed you!" I exclaimed with delight.
George proceeded to admonish me in a most loving way, "Stop devaluing yourself, Summer. You are so giving to everyone. You give so much because you are afraid that, if you don't, they will abandon you." My jaw just dropped open as he continued his "reading" of me.
When our conversation was finished, I said, "Thank you so much, George. I love you so much."
To which he replied, "Do me a favor, Summer. More than loving me, love yourself."
George passed away a week later.
Yes, there has been a lot of loss these past few years, and I know that many of you have been experiencing similar losses in various areas of your life. When I reflect on the losses, I feel sad. But then, I realize that I am so blessed to have known so many amazing, beautiful, incredibly insightful and loving people, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
In every tragedy, there are great lessons. I allow myself to be profoundly human and mourn and cry and even get angry. Yet, at the same time, I know that there is a reason for everything, and I know that God is good. Without the great losses I have experienced lately, I might not have taken the time to figure out a way to channel for myself in a way where I can participate, listen, and learn with greater ease on my body.
Stay tuned. This new realm of trance will soon be opening up a whole new world to all of us.
UPDATE: After he went missing for three weeks in November 2013, one day before Thanksgiving, I found my kitty Alex at a resort in Sedona, a few miles away from where I live. A little girl around 10 years old went to the office holding a big orange cat and said to the staff, "Would you please take care of this kitty until its owner comes to get him?" That seemed odd in and of itself. I'd been praying to God stating that I wanted to manifest Alex back. As soon I said the prayer, my phone rang. It was a staff member of the resort who told me about seeing the cat and that they were unable to care for him and had to let him go free. I went to the neighborhood of the resort the next morning and put flyers around. I stopped in at the office, and Alex ran out in front of me! I was delighted beyond belief! Unfortunately, on November 20, 2014, almost one year to the day, Alex went missing again. This time he was found dead in a neighbor's driveway. I was devastated to have him brought back to me for just one more year. I cried, "Alex! Why?" And, he said (I heard him clearly), "To show you that life is not about quantity, it's about quality. I enjoyed every moment of my existence on earth." I knew that he was having the time of his life when he passed. Alex beyond anyone lived life to the fullest. After his passing he visited me twice, very tangibly, laying next to me in bed and letting me pet him. A beam of light shone upon him, and he was as soft and cuddly and purring as loudly as he did when he was alive. How blessed I am to have had those experiences (yes, I was fully awake at the time). I still feel him jump up onto the bed to lay next to me as he did in his earth body. I miss him dearly, and have cried deeply many times. But, I would rather have loved him and lost him than not to have known him at all. I love you, my Allie Cat. xxx
Here are the last three photos taken of my two kitties (brothers) Alex and Franny together. Franny is black and white, and Alex is orange. This was just days before Alex left, and I do believe it looks like Franny is consoling him, telling him it's okay for him to go. I left for California a few days after these photos, and it was the day I left that Alex went missing. Before leaving I held Alex and told him to stay safe, and that I wanted him there when I got home. He had a defiant look in his eye which told me differently. I said, "No! Alex! You better not leave me!" I knew in my heart that he would.
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The story continues. Meet Lucy.
Some of you might remember the saga of my beautiful Maine Coon kitty named Alex. Almost two years ago he ran away into the dark Sedona night. For three weeks I searched high and low for him to no avail. Coyotes, owls, thunderstorms...the perils were everywhere, but I could not give up. As I bawled into the phone to my friend, Lorina, she said calmly, "Well, Sum, you know what to do. Manifest him back!"
I wasn't sure how I was going to do that, but I hung up the phone and cried to God, "This is unacceptable, God! Alex is not dead. He's coming home now!" At that moment the phone rang and it was a woman calling from a nearby resort about a kitty who looked just like my "Allie Cat." It was my Allie Cat!
Fast forward to one year later, to the day. I was departing for Ventura, California to live on a friend's boat for a few weeks. I scooped up Alex into my arms to say goodbye. He gave me a look that told me this was a final goodbye. I glared at him and said, "Alex! Don't you dare leave me!" He looked very serious, and turned away from me. My heart sank. I knew he was determined to leave me, and that there was nothing I could do about it.
As I was driving to California, Alex escaped once again, and by the next morning my friends found his body curled up in a nearby driveway. Not a mark on him, but he was gone.
I was so angry at my Allie Cat, and I told him so. He showed me that he was now a monkey playing in the trees. He loved heights, and couldn't climb high enough, so this made sense, but it was no consolation. I missed the heck out of him. I would hear his voice as he did everything he could to help me understand why he had to depart; that his work here was done.
While in Ventura, I was walking out of a grocery store when out of the blue he said, "Your next kitty will look just like Franny." Franny (aka Sir Francis Bacon) is Alex's brother, my other kitty who is also a Maine Coon. He has a gorgeous long black, white, and gray coat, and is very regal. I'd found the two of them together on a roadside in Sedona in 2009. I couldn't imagine that I would ever find another kitty who looks like Franny.
Then, as I passed the window of a diner, I thought I saw Lucille Ball (of "I Love Lucy") seated at a table. I shook my head, knowing full well that she had passed away years ago. I looked again and she was gone. Then Alex said, "And the kitty will be female, and her name is Lucy."
I lived in denial for the next two months, still angry at Alex. Oh, yes, I popped into the local Petsmart once or twice to half-heartedly look at the kitties from the Sedona Humane Society, but there were none that appealed to me, as much of a cat lover as I am.
In January of this year, I finally made my peace with Allie Cat. I was driving to Sugarloaf where I do my favorite hike almost daily. "Okay, Allie...I know...you're gone. I'm not going to be able to manifest you back again. You gave me one extra year, and I thank you for that. I love you, Allie," I said, tears streaming down my face, "But I know it is over now." I climbed Sugarloaf, and afterward, feeling much better, I went to the market. As I turned into the parking lot I distinctly heart Alex say, "Go to Petsmart!" For some reason this really made me mad. "NO," I responded.
"Go to Petsmart NOW," he said, "Your kitty is there."
"I don't want to go to Petsmart," I growled back.
"Summer, please. Go. Lucy is there," he said softly.
At this point I convinced myself that I was just hearing things, assuring myself that I should prepare myself to be disappointed, because the chance that this so-called "Lucy" kitty would be there at that moment was quite slim.
I walked into Petsmart and was greeted by a very sweet woman who cheerfully directed me to the caged kitties. The one on the bottom right caught my attention immediately. "Oh my God!" I thought, "Did Franny escape?" I was mortified, thinking that somehow between the time I climbed Sugarloaf and now, Franny had somehow escaped, went to the Humane Society and ended up in Petsmart. Yes, it was irrational, but that's where my mind went at that moment.
"May I see that kitty, please?" I asked. The woman directed me to a back room, and opened the kitty's cage. The kitty jumped out of the cage with one loud meow, and immediately jumped into my lap (without coaxing), rolled over and began to purr as I started petting its belly.
Had the kitty not been half the size of Franny, I would have thought she was Franny. Yes, it was female, and the spittin' image of my beloved Franny. Her name on the cage was "Lydia" but I knew that whoever gave her the temporary name hadn't quite heard it correctly. She was definitely Lucy, and as it turns out, she is just as funny.
Lucy and Franny are best of friends, and the hole in my heart that Alex left is now filled.
Why am I telling you this story? Because, all along the way I had to trust my gut, even when it was telling me something sad (when Alex was going to leave me the second time, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, even if I had stayed home) and when I heard Alex's voice after he passed. It takes trust to believe that what you are hearing and feeling and sensing is true. Sometimes trusting your gut means to trust it even when you don't know why you are having a weird sense inside. As Dr. Peebles says, "You don't have to walk down the dark alley to find out why your gut says not to go there." Trusting our gut sometimes means that we can save ourselves a lot of pain and drama. For example, I'd been driving across the country for several hours late one night. I was in the far left lane, and it was pitch black outside. I was the only car on the road. Suddenly my gut told me, "Change lanes." I shrugged and figured, "Okay." I changed lanes, and if I hadn't at that moment, I would have plowed 60mph into the backend of a truck that was stopped in the road with no lights on!
Our gut speaks to us. It's that "still, small voice within." It can spare us pain, steer us towards more joyful moments, and it can even find our missing car keys! It might sound like Alex, Dr. Peebles, a Band of Angels, or a dearly departed loved one. You might think it's just a voice in your head, when in actuality you are hearing the voice of God and Spirit.
I wasn't sure how I was going to do that, but I hung up the phone and cried to God, "This is unacceptable, God! Alex is not dead. He's coming home now!" At that moment the phone rang and it was a woman calling from a nearby resort about a kitty who looked just like my "Allie Cat." It was my Allie Cat!
Fast forward to one year later, to the day. I was departing for Ventura, California to live on a friend's boat for a few weeks. I scooped up Alex into my arms to say goodbye. He gave me a look that told me this was a final goodbye. I glared at him and said, "Alex! Don't you dare leave me!" He looked very serious, and turned away from me. My heart sank. I knew he was determined to leave me, and that there was nothing I could do about it.
As I was driving to California, Alex escaped once again, and by the next morning my friends found his body curled up in a nearby driveway. Not a mark on him, but he was gone.
I was so angry at my Allie Cat, and I told him so. He showed me that he was now a monkey playing in the trees. He loved heights, and couldn't climb high enough, so this made sense, but it was no consolation. I missed the heck out of him. I would hear his voice as he did everything he could to help me understand why he had to depart; that his work here was done.
While in Ventura, I was walking out of a grocery store when out of the blue he said, "Your next kitty will look just like Franny." Franny (aka Sir Francis Bacon) is Alex's brother, my other kitty who is also a Maine Coon. He has a gorgeous long black, white, and gray coat, and is very regal. I'd found the two of them together on a roadside in Sedona in 2009. I couldn't imagine that I would ever find another kitty who looks like Franny.
Then, as I passed the window of a diner, I thought I saw Lucille Ball (of "I Love Lucy") seated at a table. I shook my head, knowing full well that she had passed away years ago. I looked again and she was gone. Then Alex said, "And the kitty will be female, and her name is Lucy."
I lived in denial for the next two months, still angry at Alex. Oh, yes, I popped into the local Petsmart once or twice to half-heartedly look at the kitties from the Sedona Humane Society, but there were none that appealed to me, as much of a cat lover as I am.
In January of this year, I finally made my peace with Allie Cat. I was driving to Sugarloaf where I do my favorite hike almost daily. "Okay, Allie...I know...you're gone. I'm not going to be able to manifest you back again. You gave me one extra year, and I thank you for that. I love you, Allie," I said, tears streaming down my face, "But I know it is over now." I climbed Sugarloaf, and afterward, feeling much better, I went to the market. As I turned into the parking lot I distinctly heart Alex say, "Go to Petsmart!" For some reason this really made me mad. "NO," I responded.
"Go to Petsmart NOW," he said, "Your kitty is there."
"I don't want to go to Petsmart," I growled back.
"Summer, please. Go. Lucy is there," he said softly.
At this point I convinced myself that I was just hearing things, assuring myself that I should prepare myself to be disappointed, because the chance that this so-called "Lucy" kitty would be there at that moment was quite slim.
I walked into Petsmart and was greeted by a very sweet woman who cheerfully directed me to the caged kitties. The one on the bottom right caught my attention immediately. "Oh my God!" I thought, "Did Franny escape?" I was mortified, thinking that somehow between the time I climbed Sugarloaf and now, Franny had somehow escaped, went to the Humane Society and ended up in Petsmart. Yes, it was irrational, but that's where my mind went at that moment.
"May I see that kitty, please?" I asked. The woman directed me to a back room, and opened the kitty's cage. The kitty jumped out of the cage with one loud meow, and immediately jumped into my lap (without coaxing), rolled over and began to purr as I started petting its belly.
Had the kitty not been half the size of Franny, I would have thought she was Franny. Yes, it was female, and the spittin' image of my beloved Franny. Her name on the cage was "Lydia" but I knew that whoever gave her the temporary name hadn't quite heard it correctly. She was definitely Lucy, and as it turns out, she is just as funny.
Lucy and Franny are best of friends, and the hole in my heart that Alex left is now filled.
Why am I telling you this story? Because, all along the way I had to trust my gut, even when it was telling me something sad (when Alex was going to leave me the second time, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, even if I had stayed home) and when I heard Alex's voice after he passed. It takes trust to believe that what you are hearing and feeling and sensing is true. Sometimes trusting your gut means to trust it even when you don't know why you are having a weird sense inside. As Dr. Peebles says, "You don't have to walk down the dark alley to find out why your gut says not to go there." Trusting our gut sometimes means that we can save ourselves a lot of pain and drama. For example, I'd been driving across the country for several hours late one night. I was in the far left lane, and it was pitch black outside. I was the only car on the road. Suddenly my gut told me, "Change lanes." I shrugged and figured, "Okay." I changed lanes, and if I hadn't at that moment, I would have plowed 60mph into the backend of a truck that was stopped in the road with no lights on!
Our gut speaks to us. It's that "still, small voice within." It can spare us pain, steer us towards more joyful moments, and it can even find our missing car keys! It might sound like Alex, Dr. Peebles, a Band of Angels, or a dearly departed loved one. You might think it's just a voice in your head, when in actuality you are hearing the voice of God and Spirit.
And, here's Lucy as of March 15, 2018. Much like her mentor, Alex "Allie Cat" Bacon.