La musique est donc un excellent moyen pour faire passer ce genre de messages: " Musique joyeuse/ Musique ancestrale/ 2h26-2h30/ 2 semaines après le départ de maman/ Chute finale grandiose." Il est évident qu'il n'est pas du tout difficile de décoder ce dernier.

La Lettre de France (Mars 2019)

Et pour appuyer mon propos, voici un autre événement spécial qui s'est produit quelques jours après la mélodie et qui nous permet de constater encore une fois l'importance du langage symbolique dans ces expériences. Nous avons en effet reçu une lettre anonyme très étrange, envoyée de la région de Grenoble (si on se fie au code de l'unité de traitement du courrier postal). Cette lettre envoyée par une dame est adressée à son frère jumeau décédé en venant au monde. Son frère s'appelait Pierrick Joyeu (sans x à la fin) et il habiterait chez nous au 10, rue des Camélias à Blainville au Québec....

Ce qui est intéressant ici est qu'Il arrive souvent que dans des cas similaires qu'un deuxième événement vienne en appui d'un phénomène exceptionnel. Dans notre cas, je ne sais pas qui a convaincu cette parfaite étrangère vivant en France d'écrire à son frère mort-né qui habiterait chez nous au Québec et ceci juste après le départ de maman et la mélodie. 

A-t-elle vu cette adresse dans un rêve ? Est-ce un médium qui la lui a donnée ? L'a-t-elle reçue grâce à une insertion psychique ? Je suis convaincu que ''quelqu'un'' l'a poussée à écrire cette lettre.

Ce qui est certain, c'est qu'elle était convaincue qu'en expédiant cette lettre à notre adresse, elle entrerait en contact avec son frère décédé.

Maintenant, et si on accepte d'une part le fait que cet événement est lié à ce qui s'est passé chez nous quelques jours plutôt et d'autre part qu'il faudrait utiliser la grille du langage symbolique pour pouvoir décoder le vrai message, tout devient lumineux :

"Soyez joyeu(x) au 10, rue des Camélias où un portail entre votre monde et le nôtre s'est ouvert ce jour-là et soyez certains que nous existons encore."

 Quand la mélodie s'est produite, je n'ai pas dormi pendant plusieurs jours. Les questions qui me hantaient étaient justement de savoir comment on nous a retrouvés à 8 000 km, si les portes de l'au-delà se sont bien ouvertes cette nuit-là et comment est-ce possible d'exister sans avoir une composante biologique.

La réponse est possiblement venue quelques jours plus tard avec cette lettre très étrange.

Tout ça est magnifique et nous devons rester humbles devant la puissance de ces choses invisibles bien réelles qui nous entourent .

“Perhaps the shock and incomprehensible nature of the loss of a child leave the parents somehow more receptive to messages from the spiritual realm,” he told me. “We are often so confused that the comfortable realities of daily life no longer hold their solidity. The real becomes unreal; the sounds and sights of a familiar room seem as if they come from a foreign land. There is not so much pain as utter confusion about how a child you watched come into the world is no longer in it.”

On Gabriel’s birthday just days after his death, Jeff and his wife, Janet, heard a crash inside the house somewhere but didn’t think much of it. When Jeff went into his walk-in closet before going to bed, all shelves on the right side had collapsed onto the floor, so that everything slid off them to the center of the closet. There had not been any changes to the closet shelves, or the items on them, for years and there was no explanation for why all the shelves on one side would suddenly cave in. And there, on top of the pile of clothes, shoes, and photo albums lying in a heap on the floor, square in the middle with its front cover facing Jeff, was the album of Gabriel’s birth. None of the photo albums had been touched for seven years prior, yet on Gabriel’s birthday, his birth album lay there staring Jeff in the face. This was the first tangible event that occurred, and Jeff interpreted it as “either cruel fate or meaningful.” It was at least enough to leave a question in his mind saying perhaps this was more than coincidence.

Soon after, Janet had a reading with a medium, who told her Gabriel would leave dimes for them to show he was around. Jeff told his wife this was “absolute nonsense”: the medium had planted the notion in their minds to look for dimes so that it would become a circular and self-fulfilling prophecy. A few days later, Janet and their daughter Emily went to the beach, and while in the water swimming, Emily felt a dime float into the palm of her hand. How often does such a thing happen? Still, Jeff attributed that to an “amazing coincidence.”

Yet a few days later he questioned that interpretation. He was sleeping, woke up, and in the dim light saw something that looked like a dime or a penny about seven or eight feet away on the floor. He mused cynically to himself, snidely dismissing the idea with sarcasm: “Oh, I wonder if that’s a dime from Gabriel!” He turned away and then suddenly heard Gabriel’s voice. “I absolutely heard him, clearly, in English; it was loud and precise and unmistakably his voice,” Jeff told me. The voice said, “Aha! Check the date. It’s a 1981!” That was the year of Gabriel’s birth. Jeff picked up the coin—a penny—but couldn’t read the date on it, so he woke his wife. It was 1981. “He was telling me something I couldn’t possibly have known,” says Jeff. I remembered what it was like to hear my brother’s voice, as clear as day. But Gabriel’s message was longer, very specific, and less generic than my brother’s message was.

That summer, Jeff and Janet went on a trip to Bar Harbor, Maine, and were driving in Acadia National Park. “I wish Gabriel could give us some kind of sign to let us know he’s around,” Jeff said. At that moment, the car clock jumped one hour. They both saw it. Was this a sign from Gabriel? They drove around to see if somehow they had entered a different time zone, or had been affected by a nearby tower, trying to find a rational explanation—without success. Three days later, they were driving again and Jeff mentioned to Janet that, yes, the hour shift might have been a fluke caused by a malfunctioning cell tower or something. He added that if the clock changed by two hours, that explanation would not make sense and there had to be something else going on. Within two or three minutes, the clock changed by two hours.

Needless to say, the immediacy of the response to Jeff’s comment about the clock is astonishing, as well as its repetition. I was reminded of the two times the bottle caps shot into the air in my kitchen, but in my case a day passed between my asking and the receiving, and I hadn’t asked for a specific sign like Jeff did the second time. (Although I did say, “Show me that this was you!”—what better way to do that than to repeat the sign again?)

Effects on electrical appliances seem to be among the more common ADCs. On another occasion, Jeff told me he was sick and home in bed, when he strongly felt Gabriel’s presence and even thought he felt the mattress depress next to him. Jeff said, “Gabe, if you’re really here I need a validating sign.” The electricity in the house went off—once again the effect was immediate—and came back on a few minutes later. There was nothing unusual about the weather, no rain or wind, and nothing wrong with the electricity to explain the incident. Similarly, my brother seemed to have blinked the kitchen light twice and then turned it off along with the microwave—at least that is one interpretation of what might have happened—but once again, there was a delay in time after I asked him for a sign.

For discriminating, thoughtful people, there is always an element of doubt. “When I’m out of the experience, I’m back in that intellectual mode which ultimately can’t grasp what literally does not make sense,” Jeff explained. “I’m not in a high intuitive state most of the time; I’m facing the world dealing with the practicalities of daily life. The times I have certainty is when I’m in the middle of the experience. The way we normally think with our intellects is reflective; it looks at things. Reality apprehended intuitively is engaged, connected. You don’t look at things as much as dwell in them.” I understood his words very well.

And Jeff’s journey continued. Two extraordinary ADCs involved people outside the family. Early on, Jeff had been getting what he perceived as thoughts coming into his mind from Gabriel, and he was writing them down in the form of letters. “They made so much sense, and were wise, comforting, and beautiful,” Jeff told me. “But I also felt I might be losing my mind. How could I know I’m not just trying to comfort myself, to help myself cope? I had no answer to that question.” So he said to Gabriel, “Gabe, if this is you and not me, tell me something I couldn’t possibly know, something that would make no sense to me, that is completely illogical, but that I can validate.” In response, he received a phrase from Gabriel: “I am red.” Jeff laughed. “This didn’t mean anything to me, and clearly it was absurd.” He looked it up anywhere he could and tried to find some meaning for it, without success. A few weeks later he reasoned that no resolution was forthcoming. Resigned, he told his wife, “These thoughts have been me speaking. There is no validation. It must just be me comforting myself. This shows I’m making this stuff up.”

About an hour after making that statement, a package arrived at the door. It contained a painting of an angelic figure. Jeff said it reminded him of Gabriel immediately, and he began to cry. Janet exclaimed, “It’s red!” and only then did he notice the color. The package came with a note from the mother of someone Janet knew through her teaching, who wrote that she had passed the painting in a store window and for some reason she bought it. Something compelled her to send it. She stated clearly that she didn’t know why she did so. She said they could throw it out, put it in the bathroom, do whatever they wanted with it, and she hoped it didn’t offend them. Jeff then discovered that with the painting was a card from the artist. It said that the magenta color of the robes was the nearest color in our spectrum to the light emitted by those who have died in their youth; it is the color of communication, of love, from the so-called dead to the living. “I am red” had now been validated, made even stronger by the strange involvement of another person.

“I couldn’t have made this up,” Jeff says. “My son had a hand in making sure that woman sent that painting, confirming something that was a complete absurdity for me to begin with.”

On another occasion, Jeff’s wife heard from a medium that Gabriel’s message for her was to “take care,” and this didn’t sit right with her. Having had breast cancer in the past, Janet was beside herself with worry, not knowing what he meant by this. Should she go to the doctor? Was she sick again? Jeff was angry. He said to Gabriel, “I want to talk to you. I don’t want any more cryptic bullshit. I have to know how Mom is. I have to know. I will talk to you in my sleep.” And he lay down on the couch. It was 10:30 p.m. and he tried to sleep, but couldn’t settle down. Frustrated, angry, restless, he heard the phone ring. It was now about 10:45 p.m. On the line was a clairvoyant friend whom he had not spoken to in about six months. “Jeff,” she told him, “I was on the phone with my mother just now, and I heard Gabriel yelling at me. He said, ‘Hang up! My father needs to speak with me! Hang up and call him now!’ He was so persistent, I had to get off and call you. What is going on?” She was able to converse with Gabriel and communicate to Jeff that Janet was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

“Nothing in psychology can explain this. Where did it come from?” Jeff commented. “People can discount this stuff if they are tied to that easy sense of the world I lost when Gabe died. They will not know what to do with it if their view of reality is bound by what makes sense; that is, what can be sensed.” Jeff told me that one thing that drives him crazy is when people say with a patronizing tone, “Well…if it helps you get through it…” His response is: “I’d rather live my life in absolute desperation and misery as long as I’m living in truth, than to live with a sense of hope and meaning in a world where I’m simply deceived.” He has been absolutely careful to probe every ADC, and he is the kind of astute intellectual who goes out of his way to avoid deceiving himself.

Jeff also experienced something similar to an apparition, but perhaps more beautiful. Three or four months after Gabriel died, he was in his son’s room in deep mourning. He was sitting on Gabe’s bed with all the lights off and it was totally dark. At the foot of the bed and to his right, he saw a golden, oval ball of light about twelve inches wide by eighteen inches high, suspended in the air six or seven feet away. It had soft edges and a distinct shape. He tried to determine what it could be. Moonlight reflecting off a car window, or maybe a streetlight? No…if that were the case, the light would be on the wall or ceiling, not suspended in one place in midair. He thought, well, maybe there is some particulate matter there; but light would still go through the matter. No, this was a self-contained, suspended ball of light; there was no unusual particulate matter. Jeff watched it for over a minute, and intuitively he felt he might be seeing Gabriel so he concentrated on the light intently. Then it slowly faded away. He told Janet later, “I think I just saw Gabriel…”

Several months later, Jeff went to see the well-known mental medium George Anderson. Anderson told him in the middle of the session, “You’ve seen him. You saw him as a light in a darkened room. You didn’t know if it was him, but he’s telling me to tell you that it was.” Jeff was astounded. He gained the confidence to meditate and ask Gabriel why he showed himself like that rather than as an apparition, which would be something recognizable. Gabe answered that he came like that in order to teach an important lesson. “Gabriel explained that the light I saw was the very same light that exists in all human souls,” Jeff said. “Everyone has, everyone is, that same golden light.”

Even so, on the question of the survival of consciousness after death, Jeffrey Kane recognizes that the most anyone can actually say is “I don’t know.” There is no certitude about it, and there never will be. “We will never have proof because the knowledge that life after life is possible emanates from an intuitive level of experience. If you think that even proof within a high degree of probability is ever going to satisfy you, it won’t. But there are sufficient questions here so that you can’t just dismiss this. I’m not saying life after life is the only answer, although I do believe it is correct, but I’m saying that no materialist framework can accommodate it.”

Ultimately, experiences like this teach us something; they are transcendent. If one embraces them, their power and intimate quality of connection are very hard to convey in words. Those with similar experiences understand. Jeff’s final thought to the question of survival was “I can’t see a reason not to believe.”

That statement helped me find some kind of resting place with my own inexplicable experiences. No one can prove any of these events and we will never know for sure what ADCs actually are. The experiences described here either came from the energy of a surviving consciousness with whom the recipient was deeply bonded, or they were created by internal unconscious forces that we don’t understand. So I too can’t see a reason not to trust the intuitive certainty that comes during the experience, when one steps unintentionally outside the materialist framework. In those moments, I can’t see a reason not to believe.

My aunt told me a similar story after my Grandma passed away. On my aunt’s birthday, a bird she had never seen before showed up at her window and was there for a long time looking in. My aunt had her knowing too that my Grandma was safe and sound. How beautiful is this.

It had felt like awhile since I had received any signs from my Dad, even though I did receive a wonderful song on his birthday, about 2 weeks ago. The song “Gone, gone, gone” by Philip Phillips came into my mind when I woke up. The part about “I’ll love you long after you’re gone, gone, gone…”, and I knew it was Dad telling me that he was still there and loved me.

Source: https://beautyintheunknown.blog/2022/02/04/safe-and-sound/