Thank You ~ A Sincere Word of Appreciation…
For the people who contributed so that iDigitalMedium can have the funds to incorporate as a non-profit – we say thank you.
I personally guarantee that your trust in us was not misplaced, as we will show in the remainder of this year and beyond. We’re working stiffs – just like you, and we are proud to partner up with you for the greatest challenge of our age.
A total of $875 was raised from all sources (online and offline). The reason the fundraiser shows a goal of $380 is because a few donors had given prior to the creation of the GoFundMe.
This fundraiser was a success – thanks to YOU! Did you know the cost of just filing with the IRS alone as a non-profit is $400? And when GoFundMe takes their 8% fee we’ll likely have just enough to get started out on the right foot with the rest of the official filings.
And for that, we thank you. Stay tuned as we revamp the website to be exactly what you – “The People” have you demonstrated you want it to be:
A place that will make it EASY to find information regarding life after death, a team that will SEEK this information out, as well as SAVE it for our children and our children’s children.
Keith, and The iDigitalMedium Team
“Too often we forget that we have two ears and one mouth to be used in that proportion.” emkar
We learn to talk when we are babies, expressing ourselves in sounds and eventually words that make sense to those around us. Speech and verbal communication are encouraged and celebrated. What an achievement that first word is — a rite of passage in the human journey! Listening, however, is not given quite the same emphasis or encouragement. In school, we take classes in speech but not in listening. Within the context of polite behavior, we are told to listen and not interrupt, but learning to be silently present with focused attention in a variety of situations is not part of the curriculum. Neither is quiet time spent in meditation or contemplation.
Western society is noisy and wordy and very distracting, and we learn to live with it in whatever way we can, often to the detriment of our inner spirit.
As an only child, I played quietly by myself as much as with friends, but I didn’t begin to learn the true value of silence and of listening until I was well into adulthood. Although from a rural background, I acclimated easily to the novelty of living in cities and thought little of urban noise for years. At some point, however, I began to notice, and then couldn’t stop noticing, the lack of quiet everywhere. I sought out silence — in meditation classes, in parks, on vacations to natural settings away from the city. I took up bird watching as a way of immersing myself in nature, and it was then that I really began to learn how to listen.
In order to observe birds closely, you have to be willing to stand or walk in absolute silence, your senses of sight and hearing keenly attuned. When you are silent and motionless, the natural world gradually resumes its normal activity, which it had ceased at the appearance of a noisy human. What a miracle this was to me when I first experienced it. The more I listened, the more I heard: birdsong, bees buzzing, squirrels chattering, chipmunks scampering through the bushes, the wind rustling tree leaves and creaking branches.
My soul was in silent communion with everything around me.
Over the years, my listening deepened to the point where I felt I could actually hear flowers growing in my garden in the early morning stillness. Sounds fantastic, I know, but when you quiet yourself enough and truly listen, the world opens up its secrets to you.
Birds and flowers weren’t the only ones to teach me about listening. The elder parents in my life also taught me this sacred life lesson. Both my father and my partner’s mother experienced memory loss and related dementia in their later years. What you learn first in that situation is not to rush or finish the other person’s sentences, but to allow them time/space/silence to find the words they want to say. And if they don’t find the words, so what? Really the words themselves are unimportant. You learn to listen to the spaces between the words to hear what is really being communicated. I listened with my heart, with my soul. The last time I saw him, my father and I shared a lifetime of love just by looking in each other’s eyes. When he spoke, I heard his heart’s voice beneath the words. And during the afternoons when my partner and I sat quietly with her mother listening to 1940s tunes, we experienced together the beauty of the songs as well as the silence between the songs.
Our spirits were connected in that peaceful space.
Perhaps what I am describing can’t really be taught in school, but only in life. We learn to listen as we learn that there is more to this world than the physical dimension. The longer we live, the wider our perception and awareness grows (if we are fortunate), and the closer we come to the essential stillness that is at the core of being and at the center of the cosmos. Out of silence, sound is born, life is born. When we listen deeply enough, we hear the sound of silence itself. And that is the place where our souls speak to one another, without words.
Peggy Kornegger, Writer, Poet, Vision Weaver, and Author of Lose Your Mind, Open Your Heart
Peggy Kornegger is a Boston-based writer and the author of two books: Lose Your Mind, Open Your Heart (2014) and Living with Spirit (2009). She has written about personal and global transformation for more than thirty years, bearing witness to the profound changes occurring at this key time in human and Earth evolution. Her first published work appeared in feminist and political publications in the 1970s and 1980s. Her articles were reprinted in the United States, England, and Italy and included in several anthologies. At the new millennium, Peggy’s writing expanded to an exploration of the spiritual, connected to social consciousness, and her work has appeared in the magazines Spirit of Change and Awareness. Her blog is read internationally and posts biweekly at her website.
This article has been reprinted here without modifications.
“To live intuitively is to live in freedom.
My definition of freedom is to live without fear. Most of the fear we have is created by the thoughts in our mind, we worry over decisions we have to make and the people we care for. But when you learn how to trust your intuition, you know that there are multiple ways we know what we know, and the thoughts in our head are trying to keep the physical body safe, and therefore it’s always looking for problems!
But did you know you have more than one brain!
Embedded in the lining of the intestines, is the enteric nervous system, with hundreds of millions of neurones one-thousandth the number in your brain. Gut neurones communicate with the brain through the vagus nerve, which runs from the base of the brain to the chest and abdomen. This ‘gut reaction’ happened to protect us from danger. Using the gut, we could sense predators before we saw them with our own eyes. The clearest connection between the gut and the mind is how we experience anxiety and stress. A gut instinct is when we have a reaction to something we may find fearful. Making decisions through this form of intuition means that we make choices out of fear or defence.
There are, in fact, two forms of intuition as I write about in my book ‘You DO Know learning to act on intuition instantly’. The second form of intuitive knowing is often discounted because it has no words. It is rooted in emotion. For example, when we have an excited, expansive feeling and we simply know, we may not understand why we know, we just know. This second intuition centre comes from your heart. The heart has its own independent nervous system. Like the gut, there are at least forty thousand neurones (nerve cells) in the heart. This is as many as are found in various subcortical centres of the brain.
Following this heart lead intuition can lead to remarkable life changes, as your decisions become about the expansion of who you are rather than limiting yourself to avoiding pain or fearful situations. On a personal level of using heart-based intuition means you can make quicker decisions about what is right for you, which also means less stress. It also means that you can open your heart more widely to people as you know who you can trust, making it the intuition to follow for love.
Next time you hear ‘follow your gut’ you will understand it’s not a brainless act after all.
Becky Walsh, Author, Speaker, Radio Host and Life Change Catalyst
Becky Walsh is one of the world’s leading authorities on self-belief and intuition.
She has hosted her own award winning radio show on LBC 97.3 UK and presents on Hay House radio. Becky is often delivering comment and analysis in the media worldwide and is a blogger for the Huffington Post and Psychologies magazine. Becky is an excellent speaker and has given an address at ‘I Can Do It’ Seminar London. Her private practice for breakthrough’s by phone or in person in Bristol and London.
Becky is a Hay House author of ‘You DO Know – Learning to act on intuition instantly’ as well as four more published books. Becky has an online course ‘Get clear on you book idea’ for budding world changes. Becky’s teaching also effortlessly blends her unique humour with ground-breaking, smack-on-the-forehead insights that put YOU in the driving seat of your life.
Note: Becky’s article was printed as she wrote it. However, the article had several significant errors of spelling/punctuation, and they were corrected.
I shall feature another organisation dedicated to this connection in another post.
Roberta Grimes is a lady who has spent decades studying the afterlife and the massive amount of evidence that we now have for the continuation of life after death which has been at our disposal over the past 200 years. She shares what she has learnt in two of her books which I have recently read.
The books are the Fun of Dying (2010) and the Fun of Staying in Touch (2014). These two books form part of a trilogy that Roberta has written that explains in simple easy to understand terminology just what happens when we transition and about God, reality, and the meaning and purpose of life on earth.
In the Fun of Staying in Touch, she outlines the many ways that one can communicate with those who have transitioned and it also includes a study guide and a very comprehensive list of resources.
Roberta is a business attorney who has written quite a few books including a book called Liberating Jesus.
Her books are easy to read. If you have ever wondered what happens after death and how you may live today with your eternal life in mind, these are two great introductory books.
The following is taken from her blog, “Roberta has been a guest on hundreds of radio programs. She hosts her own live show called Seek Reality on the BBM Global Network, and podcasts of previous Seek Reality shows dating back to 2013 are available for free on WebTalkRadio.net and on iTunes, where her archive has had hundreds of thousands of downloads. Roberta’s shows and podcasts feature interesting and sometimes controversial topics and guests. Their purpose is to help you develop an understanding of what actually is going on.”
Her blog is at http://robertagrimes.com
Most of us believe there is something more to our four score years and ten. But what? If you have ever wondered, what is next, then you may find yourself on an exciting journey with Roberta.
If you wish to find out a little more without resorting to the academic treatises, then check this lady’s books out. I purchased my copies from The Book Depository as I have no local bookstore, but I am sure they would be readily available at your local bookstore or library.
With thanks to Sharon Cummings for adding her exquisite artwork to words that are timeless.
Becoming a Better Person with thanks to Madisyn Taylor
As I sit here on the fourth anniversary of your death my darling little girl, I look dispassionately upon myself, the shattered prism of me. I, as if occupying an outer body person look at this stranger who on the one hand can sit and write so unemotionally yet who also contains a part body that can blink to enable it to see the person reduced to tears bereft of all emotion but utter desolation. Blink again to see the strong person many others perceive, flash again to see the scared and frightened rabbit person peering in fear of the world from her burrow and I wonder will me ever come back again and do I even know who I am anymore. Each part of the prism itself shattered in sharp shards upon the floor of earth.
Four years ago almost to the hour as I held your beautiful self, trapped in a frail body ravaged by twelve months of chemotherapy and radiation and unspeakable tortures and pain, I did not know how my world would be forever changed and distorted beyond measure. I am, at this time outwardly showing a small window of my pain and inwardly screaming the primal scream of the mother who realises that she will no longer see you again as her vibrant, loving child. A mother utterly defeated by an enemy she cannot fight. A force that no matter how much love there is, it cannot stop the final closing of your eyes, the shallow breaths, and the eventual barely perceptible release of your body from its earthly shell held so tightly in a frightened despairing mother’s arms releasing you to what and where she does not know. The final act of torture that began in her mind a few hours ago when the doctors declare their inability to do any more for you, for us.
A part of me can look back now with pride, watching our respective strengths in the face of the inevitable. Watching you tidying up your fifteen short years upon this earth writing thank you letters to all the staff thanking them for trying so hard to save you. A letter for me to open later. I watch you and I struggling to understand what is happening but at the same instant knowing that it is merely a matter of time before we begin that final journey that we will do together as mother and daughter. I cannot go back to some of those hours locked behind steel doors that no one but you and I can see today, the trauma now held in the grip of my inner recesses of my mind. I think of the horror I see in your sweet face when I ask you if there is anything you wish me to give your friends and your reply a maturity beyond your years, “Oh no, mummy, people judge their worth by what they are given.” On the one hand, I hear that natural expression of yours “mummy” and the part of you that has never changed my little girl, and on the contrary, I listen to the words so wise that trip from your lips. I see you write down for your professor to read how “sorry you are that you cannot give him the gift of saving your life”. I take an opportunity to go out of your room, to gather my strength only to see the devastating effect your impending death has on those who have been so much a presence in our lives. The professor you adore, in his private world and tears, the doctors, the nurses all so evidently aware that the curtain of earthly life is soon to close. I can no longer dwell upon that last hours scene for the risk that I will be propelled into a state in which others will take control of me.
I am alone now, more than I ever have been in my life physically, mentally and emotionally and even now cannot let myself go for fear that I will lose me altogether and begin the walk of the living dead. I turn on the “coping me” that part of me I use, to get through many days and nights and that I now use to complete this writing. I will shut tight again the doors that hold the trauma of that time, again close them to remain known only to myself and you. I live in fear that I will slip again into that state of catatonia that rendered me incapable that first month after you died. That state that stopped me from being able to bury you for many, many weeks. That state that I snapped out of by rude, unkind people demanding to know when I was “going to lay you to rest.” The said and unsaid pressure for me to “get on with life”, the cruel taunt that life goes on without you.
Four years later I can say that I have plumbed the depths of utter desolation and flirted with my death. Pills piled in front of me, not once but several times I try, but I am not to have that natural release despite my strenuous attempts. No one knows how many times I have tried and not succeeded how frustrated and painful life is for me. How many times I have lain for days in pill-induced sleep another attempt thwarted by forces unknown for I am sure each time I have taken enough to send me on my way.
You asked me once, a long time ago what I thought happens to us when we die. The depth of my reply shows how little I had thought about it. I had not thought of it at all really, except as I said,” I would like to think that there are more than three score years and ten.” I came from a dysfunctional family who warred over religion. I, in turn, looked the other way when it came to religion and spirituality and lumped that part of other people’s life into a box. I was not interested in pursuing it until I had to, if ever had to, being so sure in my thinking that it was a moot point. Mindful only that I had you so late in life that I had to make sure only that you be prepared to live without me.
Sometime in the past four years and I can honestly say I do not know when my mother’s instincts again kicked in. I became desperate to find out where you were, were you safe and was there something I was not doing that was thwarting your attempts to keep your end of the bargain that we had made. The promise that we had made to each other on that last day that “if there were a way to communicate we would find it.” Instinctively we must have known that there was more ‘to life’ than this to make this pact with each other. I see that now so clearly. I see also so clearly how my lack of knowledge and grief was holding up our path.
I remember that it was an aha moment at the time, but when that moment happened remains a mystery of the past four years. One operates on automatic, in a somewhat fog of daily living as I am sure you the reader can imagine that envelops the parent who has to bury their child. A state that makes them a walking, seemingly okay shell.
But yes, it was an aha moment that there is a difference between religion and spirituality. I had spent my time since you left reading, studying all I could, about death, life, the religions of the world, the worlds of spirit, the world not known to me at the time you left and it was a significant point at which I changed in my grieving. No longer was I wallowing in my pain, rocking at the mercy of emotions. Pulling myself each time from the depths of what I cannot describe in words but which another parent who buries their child would know. Slowly no longer did I feel helpless without hope.
I have learnt that the religions of the world to help in spiritual matters are weak support for any but those who do not seek proof, those who are content, to follow without question. I know I have tested their representatives and words to the extreme as indeed I have tested many “schools of thought”.
I have learnt that there is no easy way for a grieving mother to have answered that very, very basic need of hers to know where her child was in a definitive manner. I also know it should not be like this. In general terms, death is to be feared, seen as final, just as I thought four years ago when I held you, my daughter in my arms. I very nearly lost my mind and close to losing my life because I did not have what every person should know without question that death is not the end.
Our common usage words departed, deceased, and dead have a common connotation of The End. We really should be the using the most accurate terms such as graduate, transition, and cross over.
I have found that there is life after bodily death. I have proved beyond doubt that I can communicate with my beautiful daughter and that there are ways that other parents and families can do the same with their beloved children. I have found solid, irrefutable evidence that we do live after death that we do not lay in some cold place waiting to be “called.” I have learned that there is proof out there and available if you need it. I have also learned how hard it is to find for someone in my position. I believe it should not be so, so hard, so very hard for grieving people to find some peace. I think it should be common knowledge and accepted that there is more that we can do between the worlds.
I believe that if you and I my darling can show just one other person the path then our pain and trauma will have been worth it. To give a gift of peace to another mother or father that yes your child does live on and “is with you more than you can ever realise and this is how you can communicate” would be a gift worth giving indeed.
Well, what an exciting few weeks I have had. No doubt if you have children in the higher school years conversation may turn as it did for Emma and myself as to what or how is the gap year to be spent. You see Emma was a brilliant scholar and was top of her class more times than not and so it was a given by her and myself that University would figure in the plans. One plan though was firm. The Gap year. Sadly Emma never got to her “Gap Year” passing as she did at 15. But her mother did.
So what were our plans together for the Gap Year. I would be taking a year off work, and together we planned to volunteer at projects around the world. One of the attributes that made Emma different from her peers was her mind and heart. We had already travelled to India together, and we were constant travellers of our country. But to Emma, this was a way to give back before settling down to a 4-6 years study program and something she wanted to share with her mum.
Although I did not quite make the right year, grieving tends to take over one’s life and has a course of its own, but I have completed a project that I am sure she is mega pleased her her mum did it.
This year is the year of the monkey; I was born in the year of the monkey, so what could be more fitting than to volunteer in a monkey (primate) project. So that is what I did. With the help of an organisation called GoEco who arranged the volunteer placement for me, along with so many other details that accompany such a journey I set off to the far regions of Thailand to volunteer in a primate sanctuary that is primarily home to Gibbons but also has monkeys.
I spent the first week of the three as a cultural week where I learnt about Thailand, history, culture, food, beliefs and general life. I was even a special guest at a long boat/dragon boat races. This honour came with some serious responsibility. I was required to dress in traditional Thai garments and dance with a group of very experienced Thai dancers. I confess I stumbled my way through a nationally televised version of a Thai dance. What an experience! I would never have foreseen me, a shy 60-year-old woman step out and dance in front of so many people. But that is the beauty of travel one gets the chance to do things that are out of the norm and experience life through others eyes.
Deep down I know somewhere in spirit my Emma was also dancing.