golden gate bridge. gary dakin
The Golden Gate
I don’t know if you ever do this but I’m sitting here, at my desk, looking out of the window on a bleak, cold and wet Manchester day and I’m desperately trying to transport myself in my mind to some other place. My brain racks its memory for warmer climes and immediately comes up with the memento of San Francisco.
I have to tell you, I was pretty shell shocked by the emotions I was bombarded with while I was there and experiencing the life style. As I tried to adjust, I found it to be a deeply spiritual place with lots of interest in alternative healing and the paranormal. There are Tarot or palm reading shops on most streets with Buddhist temples and Yoga centres dotted around the city. Of course there are also the more mainstream sights such as the famous Alcatraz prison situated on an island in the bay and the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge which towers above the clouds overlooking the whole city.
Every committed Spiritualist has heard of the term “towards the light.” Despite it being over-used in Hollywood films, (much to the chagrin of every genuine medium, I might add) it is a term legitimately used in the spiritual arena. Commonly, it refers to the attempt to re focus a spirit away from this physical plane and towards the astral and for this reason, people who work in rescue circles will most certainly be aware of it. Whilst on my trip to San Francisco, I was asked to undertake a spirit house clearance and from the off it became an eye-opener for me.
Through the contacts I was making out there, I was booked to attend a party given by an Asian man named Michael. I had been told beforehand that even though I would primarily be there for his guests, Michael himself had some disquieting issues with regards to the house with which he needed my help.
We decided therefore that I would visit Michael’s home a couple of days before the party, not just to acquaint myself with the area where I was to work, but also to give Michael my undivided attention and to help him as best I could. I was really surprised when I first arrived as he lived in a fairy tale mansion in a very upmarket suburb of San Francisco. Of course, spirit inhabitations can occur anywhere but it gave me food for thought to experience it firsthand. The house was wonderfully decorated in a Renaissance style with Chinese dragon statues guarding each corner of his mansion grounds. As you walked into the hallway there was a huge statue of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine. A bit much for a northern lad like myself but each to their own I always say!
Michael himself was older than I was, tanned, slightly built with short dark hair and smartly dressed. While he was trying to be a good host, I could tell he was quite anxious about something. He showed me round his house, which he was obviously proud of but the whole time, I felt quite stifled by an air of unease that seemed to follow me, which was strange because I was surrounded by such a lovely home. Even so I just felt as if I could not settle. The feeling was particularly strong in Michael’s office.
After exchanging pleasantries, I was keen to get to work and offered Michael a sitting in the hope of finding out what the root of this spiritual sensation was. We sat down together in his office and as we quietened, I attempted to form a link. I was immediately aware of a contact to the world beyond. I told Michael that this was the case and that the spirit I had made contact with had told me his name was Paul.
At first, Michael replied with a blank look. He slowly shook his head, looking puzzled and sad saying that he did not know anybody called Paul. I was so sure about this as the connection was really strong and asked him to think again.
This always makes me smile as it happens quite often. It takes a lot for me to vocalise the connection I sense at first because a small part of me worries that it may not be directly related to the person in front of me and they might lose trust which is so important. However, it’s extremely common that they quickly realise who I am communing with. In Michael’s case, he soon told me that his ex-partner had been called Jon Paul and I knew undoubtedly that it was he who was in touch.
I proceeded with the reading and as I linked more strongly with the connection it was very clear to me that Jon Paul had died a most horrible death, with his composure and emotions in tatters as if he had lost the will to live. I then became aware that he now had the most overwhelming need to tell Michael that he was sorry.
I relayed all of this information to Michael and the poor man broke down hysterically.
Slowly, he regained his composure although it took a while and he had to leave the room for a drink of water. When he came back, he was holding a damp cloth and blotting his face with it. In a small voice, he told me that everything I had said was true. He looked at the cloth in his hands and wrung it between his fingers. After a heated exchange, and out of a desperate plea to resume the already terminated relationship, Jon Paul had taken a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. He simply could not accept the fact that Michael had wanted to withdraw from the relationship and move on with his life.
Michael looked across the room and at all the objects in it as if he were seeing them for the first time. He added that even though Jon Paul had repeatedly threatened to take his own life, Michael had paid no attention to him, assuming it to be mere bravado and spoilt hysteria. He had felt horribly guilty and responsible for Jon Paul’s death ever since.
Again, I felt an urgent desire from Jon Paul’s spirit to tell Michael that he was sorry, which I promptly did. I have to say, I added a few words of my own, so moved was I by the wreck of a man in front of me. I told Michael that he was in no way responsible for his lover’s death as when it comes to suicide: we are responsible only to ourselves. Jon Paul had tried to control Michael through emotional blackmail and this was indeed wrong. Jon Paul and Jon Paul alone had pulled the trigger of the gun; not Michael. I reminded him that Jon Paul was now begging for his forgiveness and that it was only right that Michael give it freely.
Without further ado, Michael agreed. He forgave Jon Paul with all his heart as it also allowed himself to breathe more easily. The change in both the man and the house was dramatically sudden. As all this information came out the heavy feeling that had caused my uneasiness began to lift and the office started to feel more comfortable. I visualised in my mind the previously wretched man, Jon Paul, now liberated and ascending towards the light.
A few days later, I sat in a restaurant overlooking the bay, drinking San Francisco Ale, (a drink which – thank goodness – is very similar to Newcastle Brown!) and reminisced over the recent happenings and the spirit of Jon Paul moving over peacefully to the afterlife. I looked over at the Golden Gate Bridge and gazed at the wild waters of the Pacific Ocean that lay beyond its span. While watching the small boats entering the protective calmer waters of the bay, I could easily equate this sight to life and death and for some spirits the torment of being trapped in between.
I felt that I had helped Jon Paul to release himself by relaying his apology and so guiding him into the calmer waters of his own harbour, through his own Golden Gate and into the light.
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