This, like many areas, I know little about( contacting the dead). But... Two days after the sudden death of my husband, my 22 month child was in the high chair eating. She looked up from her mess of food on the tray, and stared ahead into the living room, and cried out "Daddy! My Daddy!" Nothing could contain her joy or her body as she tried to get out of the high chair. I unfastened the tray, and she crawled down and ran into the living room(messy hands and face and bib), then stopped and stared. "Where's my daddy?" Then she ran down the hall, then back. "He went away." (I saw nothing but a food covered toddler and noticed she needed a diaper change). Then she began singing an old country song "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain". Sang every verse and never knew all the verses before nor even sang the song before, although her daddy had sung it when playing his guitar. Did she perceive him? Or was it only a strong memory? //This is more important. About a week after the funeral, I was on the couch exhausted, nursing her little brother. The house was quiet, very quiet. My mind was stalled, not racing, not planning the future, not regretting the past, not lolling in self pity guised as concern for the children. Numb. Weary. Across my brain in a brief but strong mini-second I heard/ understood/ the following: "I did not suffer," he said. "Life is a brief flash. See you soon." Those were like "words" but not. This rest is what I "understood" without "words". It is very very hard for them to get back; they are "busy" (not in our sense of the word, but there are enormous amounts of "activity" over there; I understood that they(or just he?) don't want to come back or be called back; that no matter what happens in this plane of existence, we are like two year olds playing with blocks, then yowling when our block towers fall down--we just don't get it, don't get the big picture, can't get the big picture, but have to quit yowling.//I also realized that grief is more than an emotion, it is a state of human existence and must, somehow, not become part of the pile of blocks that tumbles down and we keep yowling about. It's horrific to those who experience it, but I knew I had to "get on with it" for some important reason; and that I must in small ways become part of that much larger "activity" if only by not being obstructionist or "silly" or not letting go. // I posted this highly personal event for what it is worth. My own individual experience is that they(or just he?) don't want to be called back here; and our thoughts and yearnings for them are extremely powerful, but not part of the larger "activity". And, as so often for myself, I ask, "Just because I can do it, should I do it?" (This includes buying things, eating things, etc.) For me, I am inclined to leave the so called "dead" alone lest I upset something "big" that is going on. This is not a judgment of Moody's work. However, he may just be building toy block towers, providing a distraction from being a part of the "bigger activities". //As for "getting on with it"--much easier said than lived. How do we love and love and love, then have those we have given all to, drop suddenly from our lives, leaving beings bereft, vanished suddenly, on to some "higher activity"? There's a certain cruelty to it all, and because we can't see the whole picture, we stand blindly by and yowl at the heap of tumbled blocks, like so many tombstones in an aging cemetery, blocks which were our loves.