Mediumship, Mourning, and the Why

Over the past weekend, I was called home to attend a family health emergency. Within moments of stepping into the ICU, a patient, and a stranger, passed away. This was the first time I had ever been in the immediate proximity of someone passing, and though I have dealt with loss in the past, this experience opened a valve of some kind, and I find myself thinking about the ways in which the esoteric converge around the concept of death.

While I will avoid speaking too directly regarding my experience, I did want to explore the medium’s relationship with the passing of another person. In some ways, I think many assume that mediums do not grieve, or have some sort of connection to the beyond that makes death “less visceral.” That is not the case. All people experience grief in some way, even if the possibility of life beyond this plane is held as a firm belief. Simply the number of evangelical Christians who come to mediumship readings and events should be proof of this fact. We all want certainty that our preferred after-death experience is REAL, and in the deepest parts of our psyche we worry that the survival of consciousness may not be what we think, or worse still, that we will be denied that experience for nebulous reasons. A mediumship practice does not absolve one of grief, it does not make passing easier; perhaps it does at a consciousness or social level, but not to the individual. “They are in a better place” is a cold comfort to those who are suffering loss, and even if it is true, it does nothing to address the reality of the experience. The body on the bed, the cold efficiency of doctors, the sterile environment of allopathic care, and later, the vacant space at a table or holiday gathering all continue to exist. In many ways, these experiences speak to us more loudly than vague dreams of Heaven, brilliant warm lights, or reincarnated being.

And yet.

There is something real in the communication of spirits that does tell us something about the survival of consciousness and the next way in which we exist. The balm of mediumship is that it allows us to continue communicating with those who have passed before us, recognizing their implicit being, and continuing a relationship in a new way. All relationships change.

The change in the relationship is one we may mourn (and, in some cases, should mourn) but it is not the end. Over the course of our lives we fall out of contact with friends who move, or break up with a significant other, or gain new friends, remarry, move on, etc. We still continue to communicate with some of these individuals, and some we may never hear from again. Mediumship is a lot like that. The change in relationship, or proximity, also brings about changes within ourselves. When we practice mediumship we get better at listening to the still small voice of the universe, the arcane languages of entities, or the gentle conversation with a departed loved one. And we also get better at listening to ourselves. We begin to understand more about who we are, as we are partly defined by our relationships, and partly defined by a vast array of thoughts, training, ideology, etc. Getting good at mediumship often comes as a result of getting good at knowing yourself, and if you do not know who you are, practicing mediumship will help you to arrive at that destination. One day, after years of communicating with spirits, we may one day find ourselves communicating with ourselves. Perhaps for the first time.

So many occult orders, spiritual disciplines, and philosophies are occupied with uncovering the “true self.” This is noble and great work, and any system that delivers this knowledge will also equip us to utilize it. The “great work” works on us. And so it is with mediumship. Communicating with spirits will make you better at communicating with yourself. As above so below, so within so without. It’s all inside us anyway.

And perhaps that’s the thing about death and dying. When people pass away, a part of our own selves seems to pass with them. A part of our own experience becomes obscured by the mirage that is the physical plane. But it doesn’t have to be this way. That part of ourselves that becomes obscured, like an eclipse, is waiting to reemerge and will inevitably reemerge.

As we practice mediumship we must not become discouraged by mourning, by sadness, and by the tendency we all have to say “if I am sad that means I don’t really believe in the hereafter.” We cannot measure “success” in magick, mediumship, or life by the amount of sadness we carry. Magick, mediumship, or life are not simply processes by which we eradicate and soothe our suffering, rather they are tools that allow us to recognize suffering as healthy and normal parts of a wonderful, big, limitless existence. We may use these tools to enhance our awareness, and experience our divine desire, or even to bring about more joy within the world, but their function is not panacea. Instead, we shift the focus on the purpose of these tools from “getting what we want” to “bearing witness to the macrocosm and the microcosm.”

Hermetic philosophy teaches us that the infinite god-being of the universe seeks to experience itself, and in doing so became fractured. Only through dissolution could reality be witnessed. Only through separation could the No-Thing know itself. As the fractured parts of that universal consciousness, we do our part to live that purpose. We witness the no-thing in all its varied forms. We use the tools of mediumship to witness the “unseen” elements of reality, but we also must experience the cup handed to us, for that is why we are here. In experiencing we can choose to act, we can choose to correct, and we can choose to have the experience we came here for… or we can choose to shun our sacred duty, and hide ourselves from ourselves, drowning our discomfort in the distraction of dreams, social media, news, commodities and rote beliefs. The sad part about choosing the latter, is that we also drown our ability to experience the truly miraculous. There is no escape from life, and no escape from our path.

Opening ourselves to deep spiritual work awakens valuable skills that we never before considered. We communicate with the spirit world, see the universe in a tide-pool filled with river snails, and the miracle of moss growing on a tree… but we also awaken to feelings of profound grief when 50,000 fish die in a polluted river (see our substack), or when we enter a hospital and witness a stranger’s final moments. The fear, the sadness, the uncertainty… followed by the profound relief, beauty, and release of the spirit freed from this plane. To see the archangel Rafael, wings spread wide, by a now vacant hospital gurney.

Frank Herbert writes, in his seminal work Dune, that the mystic journey is an experience in the totality of life, and seeing the web of life is to see “the Beauty and the Horror” (brought into explicit phrasing by Lady Jessica in Villeneuve 2024 film adaptation, Dune Part II). Donna Haraway writes that the best way to engage life is to “stay with the trouble.” There two concepts offer us a framework of understanding the value of mediumship. They invite us to use these skills for more than diversion, entertainment, or even personal healing… they invite us to apply these skills where they are needed most.

Everywhere.