I don’t think I’m unlike other folks in that there are people in my life who I would love to talk to, but for whatever reason I can’t. Take my dad, for instance. He’s been gone for almost a year, and while I would like to ask his advice about what to do with the family farm (which I inherited), that is not possible. I was expressing this frustration to a friend several days ago. Her suggestion was that I try talking to him on a psychic level.
I’m afraid I’ve never been good at that sort of thing, but I thought I’d give it a whirl since I had nothing to lose. During my meditation practice yesterday, I invited Dad to join me. I laid out all my worries and concerns about the farm. I told him I understood how much that land had meant to him and how much of himself he poured into the farm during his lifetime. However I also talked about how difficult it is for me to manage the property from so far away and how I thought it was unfair to ask my older brother, who lives next to the farm, to carry the burden for me. I told Dad it had been unfair of him to make me promise I’d never sell the property outside the family. I said that we all have our own paths in life and it wasn’t realistic to expect that my path, or the paths of anyone else in the family, would be the same as his. I told him I needed a solution that was full of grace: one that would preserve the farm and that both he and I could feel good about. In the end, you know what I heard back from him? Nothing. I didn’t feel his presence and I didn’t hear a peep. Grant it, he wasn’t much of a communicator when he was here on earth, but you’d think that maybe he could have managed a few words of advise.
Yes, I realize that some of you must think I’m ready for the loonie bin expecting that I’d be able to talk to my dead parent. But if William Lyon Mackenzie could do it, why can’t I? Maybe I’ll have to get Willie to have a word with my dad!