March 8, 2017

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With only two more days to go until our seven-year anniversary of being remarried across the Great Divide, let's see if we can finish going through the medium's reading, which brought us together on March 10, 2010. After speaking of my death in 1841, Candace, the medium, suddenly shifts to Steve's present lifetime:

Abby couldn't contact me until I was past age 46. I may pass at age 60, or perhaps 61. She will be the one meeting me on the other side. Important to get the work done before then. This is the time when we can get the information out.

At the time of the reading, Steve was 55 years old (if he has counted right, he says). So he is almost 10 years past the mark in 2010. But what had happened, is that ten years earlier, he had made the decision to give up looking for his soul-mate, and to just find a good, decent lady. He found a lady who seemed so, on the surface. This is the same decision he made as Mathew, for his third marriage; and in fact, because the pattern is so similar, Steve has wondered whether or not it was the same person. Either way, karma has its due, so we won't concern ourselves with that question. But the next "nexus" or opportunity came up after Steve had emotionally recovered from this earlier, emotionally toxic relationship.

Now, what is this "work" that Candace refers to? It is, of course, the same work we were about as Matt and Abby, before I "checked out prematurely" by giving way to grief over my daughter's death, and allowing myself to die. Candace says it is important for us to get the work done before Steve passes. She has seen a possible time of age 60 or 61...and Steve is now 63! Steve's time has been extended, through my wise council, because we cannot get the work done quickly enough; and we cannot preserve it, because there is no interest in it. I am telling Steve, and have told him, there were two scenarios. The first is that someone in a position of social prominence takes Steve's part, and publicizes his work. After a brief period of fame, and with the work firmly established so that it will be available for the next generation (and future ones), Steve passes. The second scenario is that no-one is interested; or, if anyone prominent is interested, he or she is too scared to take Steve's part, publicly. Then, he languishes in obscurity for a longer time; but eventually, a protégé comes along, and takes up the yoke, and carries it forward to that generation which will appreciate it. That may happen at the end of a long life.

Because the book, really-speaking, isn't quite finished even now, we still could be in "scenario one." But either way, I will be there to meet him when he passes. Count on it.

Steve's notes next indicate:

"36"--at first thought 36 years old, but then, maybe 1836 as death time.

We were married in 1836. Remember, I am still a woman!

Now Candace goes back to the past; or more properly-speaking, I do, as it is I who am relaying these thoughts "down-the-chain" to Candace's astral helpers:

As a result of Abby’s death, his heart wasn't in it after that. He didn't show his emotion, depression. Abby was his soul mate. They had overcome great obstacles to be together, her death was unexpected. He never thought he'd live so long without her. Became withdrawn, eccentric.

We have tons and tons of proof of this, from the historical record. Matt never did reveal his deeper feelings, except when I drew them out of him, or during sex, when he told me how much he loved me! You may think Steve is just making that up as a generic comment--but no, he remembers it specifically. Will I shock you if I share such intimate memories? He would whisper into my ear, over and over, that he loved me, to induce me to a climax, you see. And because I had low self-esteem, I would begin to question, "Is he just saying that to manipulate me?" Because, of course, dears, it worked, until I began doubting. But when I finally got up enough courage to ask him--tearfully--he made it quite clear, that he would never say such a thing if it weren't true, even if he was hoping to get such-and-such a result, which was for a mixed motive--both selfish and unselfish. In other words, he gave me a lecture about it! I didn't mind. I got the answer I wanted :-).

Ah, the little things Steve has remembered...but keep in mind we have proven one of them as historical fact; so it behooves anyone who wants to be logical, to respect the others as being quite likely literal, as well...

In the new car, after we had completed this entry, Steve asked if I wanted to play our "CD game" (now, the digital version), and felt that I did. I picked the following song, which starts out thusly. This is also an elopement song, and talks about being reassured about one's beauty, in this verse. Steve has remarked that I "like to hit on two points."*

Now (ahem!) back to the reading...

You see, of course, that Candace says we were soul-mates; that it had been planned before we incarnated together; that my death was unexpected. But, she has already said I died of tuberculosis! How could she say that, and then turn around and say my death was "unexpected"? What she means is, in the planning before we incarnated, I was to recover. At the deep soul-level, Matt knew something wasn't the way it should be. You see, I fell in love with my daughter, Sarah. Matt was the one who had bonded most with my first-born, our son. Why? Ah, this goes back hundreds or even thousands of years--we don't know what creates the bonding between souls, or why a mother is not quite ready to be a mother the first time, but is "primed" for it, the second time. You ladies may understand. I didn't understand it at the time--I only knew that I loved my son, but I adored my daughter. If it's true that I took the blame for her death, you see, I would have been shattered--and committed suicide by letting myself go, with the excuse that it was Victorian righteousness! Do you see how I fooled myself? I am admitting things to you that I could barely admit to myself. We do fool ourselves mightily, at times. So, Matt couldn't believe it. He tried and tried to believe in my own rationales, you see, that it was spiritual, but he felt abandoned--and it was this, as well as the sheer power of the loss, itself, that drove him mad. Well, if not mad, then half-mad. He tried and tried to carry on our work, but he was never "right" again. All the evidence for this is in our book.

The medium continues, per Steve's notes:

Something about Matthew estranged from his own lineage, not spoken about. Candace felt it was on the East Coast--NY, Washington, Virginia. Abby wanted Candace to address her as Abigail--formal. Showed wearing pearls.

This is the first of two mediums who have perceived me as being casual with Matt, but more formal with everybody else. This actually goes back to our being king and queen, etc. What about the pearls? Steve never found any evidence for me wearing pearls. But it is a similar presentation to what the second psychic saw. The gist of it is, I want a certain formality with other persons, but I completely let my hair down, as they say, with Matt, my soul-mate. Even to the extent of being completely vulnerable to him, soul-to-soul, and entirely open to adventurous experimentation in sex. Nobody who knew me socially--especially in that era--would ever guess it. But I have (Steve seems to remember), shared with you that I had one friend, who accidentally let-slip that her husband was also attentive to her needs, in bed. This was quite rare at the time, you see. We were the lucky ones--but we only dared share our stories with each other! Because the other poor ladies were getting banged on briefly each night before the snoring started, and living most of their lives pregnant. And we were being treated and respected and, well... Matt never knew that some of the ideas I came up with, actually came from her; and vice-versa for them. :-)

But, I digress ;-).

Mathew most certainly was "estranged from his own lineage." And Candace had no way to know. He had only sent her an etching, not the name, you see. She did not know he was the younger brother of a famous poet, John Greenleaf Whittier. She had not studied his life, and even if she had, she would only have noticed a lack of information about him. She would not have likely come across this brief snippet from a reporter's article:

When about taking leave, I remarked that I had heard more or less discussion as to his relationship to the poet, and, though I well knew just what it was, I wished to carry from him "official" statement thereunto. His answer was characteristic of the man.

"The only relationship existing between John Greenleaf Whittier and myself," he said, in solumn, deliberative tones, "is, we each had the same father and the same mother!"

Now, in terms of Candace's accuracy, if you look up anything about these brothers, all you will find is just the opposite--that they loved and respected each other, etc. You will not find this. She had no way of knowing. Steve had studied the paranormal quite extensively by this time. As a researcher, he was quite aware of the "cold reading" technique, and the skeptical objections regarding it. He had been careful, up to this point in the reading, not to give Candace any clues which she could build upon.

Ironically, that she did no historical research ahead of time, is clearly indicated in her guesswork about where these events took place. She correctly got the East Coast, but erred as regards the states (Massachusetts, and then Maine).

Now, if you are doubting Candace as a genuine medium, or that she may be taking her clues from Steve, here is your answer. Steve's notes say:

Abby asked about the five children. I corrected Candace, were only two, then remembered that Matthew had five total. Abby had found me, but can't locate them, wanted very much to know what became of them.

Steve corrected Candace several times on this point, as he recalls--two or three times, until he realized what the problem was. But was I literally unable to find the children? Steve is not clear on this point. Can't I wave a magic wand and find anybody I want to? Wherever they have incarnated? Everything is connection. The stronger your karmic connection is with a person, the more easily you can find them, since everything, here, is done through the heart. Let me explain something, as best I can. The "organ" through which we communicate, is quite articulate to us--more so than your intellect is, to you. But to you, that same organ is vague. It is wisps of feeling, of intuition, and because it is just barely conscious for you, you call it "the subconscious mind." It is only "the" subconscious mind, however, because you don't use it directly. We use it directly, and thus what, to you, is the "subconscious mind," is actually our conscious mind--or something similar. We are more vibrantly conscious than you are, through this "subconscious mind." Do you understand? We can use logic--but it is like a primitive form of communication. We prefer to use direct sensing. All that to say this--if the heart-connection is strong enough, we can find someone. But if it is someone we are not so closely connected with, then not so easily. Like that.

I am reminiscing, to Candace, and so she is getting a flood of my feelings about my past life with Mathew. Steve's notes reflect:

Abby cries. Remembers sitting on a swing for two, under a tree by a river, romantic. Matthew reading black market book to her. Black market books hard to get. Metaphysical. Drew them together. Both knew they would come together again. Both understood reincarnation.

When Steve first wrote this, he couldn't figure out this part about me crying. But this is nostalgia, you see. Feelings are very powerful, for us. So we are back to the black market books, but there is something else added: a swing by a river.

Now, my family home overlooked a big river, the Merrimack River in East Haverhill, Mass. Chalk up another one for Candace. (Are you keeping score?) I have already shared with you a poem Matt wrote about being driven to distraction by my flirting, when I was just 16, sitting in a vine swing. What swing was Candace seeing? Did we both sit in the arbor on the vine swing, together? Hardly, I'm giving Steve to understand. He did learn, from studying history, that in that era, young men and young women were permitted to "sit up" with each other (in plain view of the adults, of course), far into the evening. How could you get more romantic than sitting in a swing, overlooking a broad river, in the evening? Matt wrote about it. Shall we share a little of what he wrote? I think we have shared this, before, but you don't mind, do you? For those who may not have seen it.

The last rays of the sun as it sunk behind the picturesque hills that border the Merrimack, were streaming like threads of gold on the quiet waters of that beautiful stream, and from the groves around the feathered songsters, who had during the fierce heat of the long summer day retired to the deep shades of the forest, now poured fourth in various notes their evening song of praise. Myriads of insects were filling the air with their monotonous humming, and the frogs, emerging from the cool recesses of the marshy pools, added their shrill pipings and hoarse mutterings to the general concert, which animate nature, with a thousand voices, seemed to be giving in triumph, as the sun, whose scorching rays during the day had driven them to shelter--now sunk, like a blazing comet, behind the western hills.

At this point, for the first time in the reading, Steve told Candace Mathew's historical identity, and began asking questions. Accordingly, the accuracy goes down somewhat, and also, the things she says are harder to track down. Steve had his own ideas at this early phase of the research, as for example that I died from a plague that came off the ships. Even though Candace has already said I died of "consumption," here she acquiesces that the "Plague did come from ship, hence Matthew's guilt." He asks her about his memory of Mathew meeting Edgar Allan Poe, and she confirms it, but says it would "take a lot of research to uncover," and she repeats that, to emphasize it. She says he may find it in the Edgar Cayce readings.

Steve didn't find that in the Cayce readings--but do you know what he did find, there? An assessment of Mathew's brother's personality, which matched what Steve felt, despite him being the only one expressing that opinion.

Now, in the midst of trying to answer Steve's questions, she gets an impression unrelated to any of them:

Women shunned Abby as well. Many of them gossiped behind her back. "Got the devil".

I'll show you the historical evidence for that, but you have to read between the lines a little bit. This is a terse comment that Matt made in our newspaper, the Salisbury Monitor, in 1838. The girls, or at least some of them (instigating and throwing) were grown young women. They were throwing rocks at our windows, when Matt was at the office, you see. I was at home alone with our infant son. It was terrifying, because not only could we not afford to replace those windows (which the landlord would insist we pay for), but the glass is flying, or may fly if the panes break; I'm holding my son, who is crying (because, of course, the girls are yelling hateful things out in the yard), while I am trying to protect him; and I don't know whether they will set fire to the place, or what! Here is Matt's comment. This was reprinted, with responses, by the editors of two other papers. One made it sound like our fault; the other used it as the occasion for a pun. The first editor figured out pretty quickly it wasn't just everybody, it was personal.

The young ladies in our town amuse themselves by throwing stones at their neighbors' windows in the night. Their mamas ought to tie their little thumbs together with a cotton thread.--Salisbury Monitor.

You must be a hideous, ugly neighbor, Mr. Monitor, that the girls should find it necessary to pelt you with dawnicks. For our part, we are rather in the predicament of the Newburgh man--obliged to club off the sweet creatures to keep them from killing us with kindness.

--------

The young ladies of Salisbury, according to the Monitor of that place, amuse themselves nightly by breaking their neighbors' windows. Pope says--" 'Tis woman's part to ease man of his pains." Probably the Salisbury girls read it "panes."[Louisville Journal.

Matt, as you can well imagine, was furious! It is seen in the other piece I shared with you, in this series about our anniversary, where I am home alone waiting for him to return, and it turns out he was detained by bores. A pretext is created, in the story, for him to be angry, and I have to work hard to tone down his inclination for revenge. I was in-between these people's violent ignorance, you see, and Matt's manly urge to protect me, and also his tendency to revenge (odd for one raised Quaker, I know). It wasn't an easy time; and honestly, I began to wonder whether trying to help people out of their ignorance was really worth the trouble.

But you can see that, once again, Candace was spot-on.

We are nearing the end of the reading... Here is another spontaneous statement, which means, another "thought-burst" which is not the medium's own attempt to answer a question:

Abby and Matthew would go in nature to talk (safely), where we could be ourselves. Matthew would put blossoms in her hair. Also earlier lifetimes together--in the 1400's. Abby flipping pages (of lifetimes we had been together).

"Talk" is putting it a bit mildly...where else could a young couple make out in the early 1800's? Picnics were the thing, and young people had an avid appreciation of Nature (including their own natures). The second medium made a great deal of my liking flowers, as well. Many of these things were generic for the times--had Candace studied the 19th century, or read novels, where the young couples are "sitting up," and reading together, and he is putting blossoms in her hair? We don't know. I will say this much--Candace is an earnest, sincere soul, who is not so much formally educated. Steve also has found that she doesn't remember what she said in the reading. He has tried to share some of these pieces of historical evidence with her, to bolster her confidence, but she says, "I don't remember what I've said in readings."

Now, what of this earlier lifetime, the one in the 1400's, which Candace felt I was particularly pointing to, out of many we had shared? Could this be the king and queen I earlier referred to, or royalty of some kind? Steve doesn't know. He will remember it, instantly, once he crosses and we are together, again, on this side. It is, perhaps, best he not know now. But you see how it is with soul-mates. They have been together countless times. They know each other "inside-out." There is nothing remotely like the soul-mate relationship. This is Majnun and Laila; Romeo and Juliet. The world always makes it hard for them. Their love perseveres. They are as one. "Peas of a pod," as I used to say--"birds of a feather." Deal with one of us, and you deal with both. I breathe in--he breathes out. Like that.

Steve now asks Candace whether Mathew influenced the writing of the book attributed to (and claimed by) author Charles Dickens, "A Christmas Carol." Candace confirms:

Matthew did influence the writing of "A Christmas Carol" (Candace didn't know what it was until I told her, the story of "Scrooge"). Dickens read between the lines, didn't have it complete. Abby corrected her that it was signed by Matthew. But the proof was burned in a fire.

Several years later, Steve found this article:

The two story wooden building on the corner of Congress and Pearl streets, Portland, Me., was on fire on Thursday evening. The corenr part of the lower floor of the building, in which the fire took, was occupied by Mr. James D. Sawyer, as a grocery and provision store. His stock was consumed--insured for $200, in the Trenton office. The other portion of the building was occupied by Mr. M.F. Whittier, as a residence. His furniture was principally got out, but in a damaged state--no insurance. The building was owned by Nathan Winslow--was but partly consumed--probably insured.

This article appeared on April 5, 1852. You may recall that my sign (the statue of the Nymph of Lurleiberg, from the World's Fair) and my visitation dream came a few months earlier. At the time Steve found this article, he had no idea why Mathew would be living in an apartment above a grocery store. Later, he figured it out. Mathew had long been separated from his second wife (an unhappy arranged marriage he was tricked into by family); he kept a residence there in Portland, where the children were, and also in Boston, where his literary work was. It appears that his anti-slavery and anti-militarism lampoons had angered some people, and discovering his true identity, they burned down his flat in Portland in retaliation.

Likely, as he was living in a hotel or boarding house in Boston, this flat in Portland was where he would have kept his treasures, including the document in question. Again, Candace had no way of knowing this, except that I showed it to her psychically. We certainly cannot prove that this particular piece of evidence was burned in the fire. In the book, Steve has done a good job--with my help--of proving just how likely it is that I wrote the original of that story, with Matt adding his humorous touches to it. I can't help that I was an excellent writer, whom famous men (or men who wanted to be famous) stole from. If this makes me seem implausible to you, well, then, it does. Perhaps it will make sense, if you notice that I write fairly well in these entries.

We come to the end of Steve's notes, taken during the reading, itself. Added from memory the following June, is this comment:

Candace also told me that she was being bombarded with images an hour before the reading was scheduled to start, i.e. that Abby was that eager to communicate with me; so much so, that Candace thought about calling me to start an hour early. She also told me that Abby loved me "more than I could understand" or words to that effect.

That, perhaps, needs no further comment from me. Now, what do you think of all this? Steve is sort of stranded, here, left to finish out my entry all on his own! I am lost in thought, you see, or rather, in feelings. I'm still here, but I am overwhelmed, as it were, with the memory of it all. I loved that brief time with Matt dearly--I wish it could have gone on, and indeed, it was meant to go on; and this is the reason why, instead of incarnating together, as is the normal way, we have had to team up this way, across the Divide. But everything happens for a purpose, and perhaps we are meant to show others, in this dark age, that it can be done. And to bring encouragement to those of you who have already discovered this secret--that death, the seemingly invincible enemy, can be overcome, and its appearance in the life of a soul-mate couple adjusted to, just like any other event. Do you see? It is just one more event in life. It forces the relationship into a higher mode--if one is ready to take that step. It requires a terrible leap of faith. And Steve was just last night recounting the very moment he made that leap, seven years ago. Shall we retell that story, briefly, before we end, here? It's fitting, I think, at the seven-year anniversary.

Steve had had this reading--he was "in." He bought a Turkish puzzle ring; I materialized one here, to match. He went down to the shore at night, pledged himself to me, and put it on. Somewhat amazed at my good fortune, that my man would actually do this on faith, sight-unseen--that he had actually come back to me--I gratefully put mine on. We were married!!!

But the skeptical mind... Now, Steve isn't sure of the order of events, here. It may be this came before the ring, and our little ceremony, he can't recall, now. Memory plays tricks. But he had definitely fallen in love with me, across the Divide, and he was "in." He would go places, and believe I was sharing it with him; his faith was strong. But then, he went to the IMAX theatre--with me, as he believed--and the film was about to start. Suddenly, he saw a kind of vision in his mind's eye. He realized that he really was falling in love; and that very soon, if he tried to back out, he would be unable to do so. He would be caught in a see-saw of belief and disbelief, not able to hold on and not able to let go. He saw, as it were, a road diverging in a fork; and that as he was proceeding down one fork, the other road was fast disappearing in the distance, through the trees. The road he was on, was one of falling more deeply in love with an unseen, unproven girl; the other was cynically disbelieving it, and going back to his accustomed existence. If he was wrong about this, he was heading into insanity. But if he was right...

Right then and there, he took the bull by the horns, and made the decision. He would continue loving me and believing it was real, hoping it was, in fact, real. He would continue going down the road he had chosen. And he would let the other road fade from view through the trees, as it was doing.

This is courage, dears. Those of you who have taken this leap of faith, only to find that it is, in fact, wisdom, and not folly--we applaud you. And Steve will risk shame and ridicule, and being ostracized yet again, to encourage you in conquering the twin enemies of death and grief. With this mouthpiece that Steve has thus provided, I will also do my utmost to encourage you, and at times, to act as a go-between in bringing soul-mate couples back together across the Divide. We are privileged to do this.

Meanwhile, if you question whether this was real, answer us this question: If Candace wasn't a genuine medium, who has validated that Steve was once Mathew, and that we were, and are, soul-mates, then how, exactly, could she have been right about so many things?

Love to each and all,
Abby

*With this new method, I simply keep my eyes closed, and push the advancing button repeatedly, at a slow pace, until I feel Abby prompting me to stop. There were some 20-25 tunes to choose from in this case, as we were selecting from those tunes which had been loaded into the on-board drive. I also felt this was Abby's choice, as opposed to the flash drive. This song was the third selection. The songs may be in alphabetical order, but I certainly haven't learned it at this early stage of owning the car.--S