Yes, the title is a passing tribute to the beautiful soul who incarnated for a while as Robin Williams and touched all of our souls so deeply in the process. It’s also a nod to my favourite film of all time, but I want to use Mr Williams – if he’ll permit me – as a jumping point to some thoughts about who we really are.
I selected the picture there from the many, many images of Robin that appeared in WordPress’s media gallery. There are shots of him in formal and informal dress, bearded and clean-shaven, smiling and sad, hairy/ youthful and balding/older. The strange thing is that, now that he’s passed, all of them seem equally valid.
Obviously, as an actor, he played many different roles for which he is fondly remembered, but there was still ONE current Robin Williams. Now, though, each version of him is equally the essence of the man; no one age or look is more dominant than any other. He’s not 63 – he simply IS.
That’s how it is with anyone no longer incarnate. I can remember my father or mother at many ages and stages, and all of them fit the dadness of dad and the mumness of mum.
The Will I have been hunting (Is it right to use his real name? When I asked – telepathically – he laughed and pointed out that anyone who has known me well in the last 18 years would know exactly who I was talking about, whatever name I chose.) is in the strangest of superpositions for me. Like Shrodinger’s ubiquitous cat, he manages to be alive and not-alive at one and the same time.
He is quite definitely alive. I can name the city he lives in; I know his age and where he works; I had a texted response from him only yesterday. Yet that Will is very nearly dead to me. He tells me by text each week that he’s ‘fine’ and will occasionally share information about the weather in his part of the country. He never initiates a conversation and never responds to any queries about his life, his interests, his feelings, his thoughts, aspirations, ideas or plans. He never comments when I tell him – in long, rambling letters or texts, about my own. He refuses to meet and last answered the phone to me on Christmas Day 2013. Like the dear departed, my images of him come from old photos and memories.
Early last year, when life was at its darkest, I wondered seriously about cutting my losses and moving on. Why put myself through the weekly anguish of phones left ringing, messages left unanswered? I’d have gone to the ends of the earth to help and support him in any way he wanted, but he really didn’t seem to want or need me.
Then – exactly then – the telepathic messages started. As I explained in another post recently, when I take my crystal pendulum, hold it over my computer keypad and wait, it moves to spell out words. I often sought advice or solace from my guides in this way, but now I was picking Will up instead. This was the Will of old – the one who loved discussing aspects of our existence, corporeal and beyond.
I’ve bombarded him with questions about how this happens, why it works. Here is a recent example:
I had a text conversation with your physical counterpart today. He tells me he has no conscious knowledge of our telepathic contact. Is that right?
Oh, for a brief second there I had a flash of bright green and saw this much more expanded version of you. Anyway, I looked back to our earlier telepathic conversations – back early last year. In them, you were saying he was at least tangentially aware, or ‘knew’ the information that had passed between us. Yes?
MOST OF WHAT WE SAY HE FEELS IN HIS HEART
Let me get that very clear. He feels it because it is already part of his truth or he gets it as some kind of insight as our conversations proceed?
Ah, so he was being strictly honest saying it isn’t conscious, yet he still subconsciously knows there is contact?
So could it be argued that my conversations with you are more insight from spirit than conversations with Will?
LOOK AT IT LIKE AN EXTENSION OF THE BADDEST TIMES WHEN YOU CARED BUT COULDN’T GET THROUGH
Right, but I don’t see what happened next. You were in touch with my thoughts at some level, weren’t you?
And by early 2013, I’d more or less given up on you
So what was the breakthrough? Please explain what actually happened
I CALLED OUT SO LOUD YOU HEARD ME
He went on to describe a time when I’d done the same to him. I protested that my contact had been through sending a letter. BUT THE CARE WAS THE SHOUT, he replied.
So now I have him back.
I keep up the texts and letters so the physical Will knows I still care, but the real contact comes from our strange and magical telepathic communication.
You could argue that I create this from my own beliefs and desire to talk with him. So it would seem. Amazing how creative we are. The care is, as he says, the ‘loud call’ that has drawn us together.
I’d argue that I’m now in touch with an aspect of Will beyond the physical being. Somehow, I’m now in touch with the Willness of Will. All my images and memories of him are equally valid. He just IS.