Deciding to break the news that you see dead people can be nerve-wracking. Just like ‘coming out’, rejecting the college your parents picked for you, or finally admitting to your partner that your relationship isn’t working, declaring anything that differentiates you comes with real risk.
Your father thinks anything spiritual is ‘hooey-mumbo-jumbo’, so telling him that aunt Mabel came to you in a dream last night is pretty much out of the question. Your ‘normal’ friends have jobs, babies and mortgages - the afterlife doesn’t play any role in their daily life so they probably won’t get it. And when John from accounts listed ‘Jedi’ as his religion on the company diversity form, gossip circulated around the tea room for weeks, so forget telling any of them at work!
And yet, we have a strong desire to be true to ourselves and to be known for who we really are. A profound spiritual experience comes with a built-in desire to share it. We want to spread the awe and wonder we felt by relaying our mystical experiences in the hope that it will serve others. More than anything, we want the freedom to ask - have you ever experienced anything like this? And to form bonds with those who answer yes.
Should we worry about sharing our transcendent experiences?
Your hesitation to come clean to others that you believe in life after death is, in many ways, appropriate. It’s underpinned by a deep biological imperative: Do not single yourself out! Our amygdala, and other neural architecture in the brain, are devoted to the complex task of belonging.
The only reason any of us are alive and reading this article right now is because our ancestors worked together in social groups. The ability to work together, and to make our various minds work as one, is a huge part of what makes us human and sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. Humans, historically, have been at their safest, wealthiest, and most productive when working together. And have been at their most vulnerable when they are alone. So the brain gives you a stern, clear warning when you’re about to say or do something weird that would ostracize you from your social group. This manifests as a profound hesitation when you are about to ‘stand out’; whether for your beliefs, or your talents. The risk of love, belonging, resources, and protection being taken away is just too great.
Today, society has evolved to enable us to cope even if we are on our own. But brains are so complex that they take millions of years to get the message. So the urge to keep schtum about our weirdness is still alive and well. It manifests as fear of invalidation. Timidity. Worry about ridicule. And these mental processes give rise to ‘people pleasing’ actions, which are an attempt to avoid contempt.
Social media has shown that people still carry opinions intended to shame and ostracize. These opinions no longer have the same jeopardy they had for our ancestors. A tribesman pointing out that you are a bit weird no longer means certain physical death. Just possible social death, which, admittedly, is still pretty bad. It’s no fun questioning your entire existence alone in your bedroom because of some jerk’s opinion on social media.
To tell or not to tell?
When deciding whether to tell people your deceased mother visited you in a dream, or that you’re a card-carrying member of a spiritualist church, or that you’re having full-blown conversations with the deceased, details matter. Who do you want to tell and why?
Start slow and have good boundaries. Err on the side of caution. Protect your truth until you know how trustworthy your audience is. When I’m meeting someone new, in a neutral, non-mediumship related setting, I may say, ‘I’m interested in consciousness research,’ when they ask what I do.
Imagine you are making new friends or dating, aim to layer your truth, and gauge the other party’s responses as you go.
Meeting 1
New Person: ‘What do you do?’
Me: ‘I’m interested in consciousness research.’
Meeting 2
New-ish Person: ‘Tell me more about your interest in consciousness.’
Me: I’m interested in research into the afterlife and the possibility of surviving death, and what that can teach us about consciousness.
Meeting 3
Me: Have you ever had any strange experiences with someone who’s passed? Synchronicities or dreams, or anything like that?
Sort-of Acquaintance: (Whatever their answer is).
By formulating the third conversation as a question, not only do you get a sense of what the other person’s core beliefs are, but you also make them feel good by being interested in them and their perspective on life. Usually, by this point, you will have an idea whether you’re with someone who is, at least, open-minded and non-judgmental.
What you want to avoid is blurting out your truth in heart-wrenching detail, especially if you have gone through a loss. If the other person responds in a way that alienates you, even if it wasn’t intentional, you’re going to feel bad. You have a responsibility to protect your own heart, and to help people assimilate your worldview into theirs gently. There is nothing worse than opening your heart way too soon, or with the wrong person, and being met with a blank stare and awkward smile.
Or worse, oversharing with someone whose beliefs are opposed to yours, who meets your truth with anger, forcefully invalidating your experience. Don’t overshare. Test the waters slowly.
The best people to tell
The ideal scenario is that your social group consists of people who understand your experiences and who think as you do. The more central your afterlife experiences are to your personality and how you see the world, the more vital it is that you identify with a community that appreciates and mirrors that key part of yourself. Unusual beliefs are like foreign languages. If a person doesn’t understand the language, you have to keep things simple and brief in the way you communicate with them. But if someone speaks your language fluently, your discourse can be more detailed and meaningful.
When to keep your mouth shut
Of course, within any group, there will always be people who are coarse, gossip-y, and morally lax. So even in a group who seem to think as you do, account for differing personalities and get to know people slowly. In short: do not cast pearls before swine.
Do not try to convince anyone who is hostile to adopt your way of thinking. When something is important to us, we can feel a deep conviction to force others to understand us. We so badly want to be acknowledged and accepted. And when someone we love - family, or a romantic partner - fails to accept a key part of us, it can feel like they have disregarded us entirely. In a desperate attempt to get ‘back in the nest’, we deploy all our best manipulations to bring them around to our way of thinking. It is when we feel most desperate for acceptance, that we must resolutely resist the urge to preach, cajole or justify.
A word on visibility
Being visible as a medium is hard. When you make a post on social media that clearly outlines your most deeply-held beliefs, you are declaring it to the world. It’s impossible to weed out those who have contempt for your point of view. They are mixed in with the people who believe as you do and support you. You need to have a very thick skin and even tougher boundaries to be a medium publicly. The more visible you get with your conviction, the more some Christians and cynical skeptics think it’s their right and responsibility to correct you. Their opinions are a reflection of themselves, and actually have nothing to do with you. You need to be strong and yet light and flexible in your beliefs. When the wind blows, you bend. Your roots are strong and deep, so the blowing of the breeze cannot knock you over. It’s a great irony for mediums that hyper-sensitivity to others is the foundation of effective contact; but at the same time, it’s the thing that makes us take opinions into our hearts where they do not belong.
In conclusion
When it comes to telling people about your afterlife beliefs and experiences, there is a parallel relationship between your audience, and how much you should say. If you don’t know someone well, or you know they won’t react well, say less. If you know them well, or you know they are kindred spirits, say more. And if you’re not sure, take more time to get to know them.
Historically, it’s been safer to assume that our afterlife experiences are like a foreign language that only few of us can speak, and to treat it as such in conversation. But we may be in the midst of a sea change. Just the other day, I heard preeminent psi researcher Dean Radin say on Mysterywire that his research group had great difficulty finding a single person to be in an experimental control group who had not had any kind of psychic experience.
And as I write this in Cafe Strangebrew, three teenage girls at the table next to me have broken into conversation about things psychics told them that came true, and how one needs to go back to see ‘her’ psychic next week. Not only are more people having anomalous experiences, but more people are willing to talk about them.
Although social media is one of the toughest places to be yourself if ‘yourself’ doesn’t fit with what the keyboard warriors think you should be, perhaps social media is also working to make us more accepting of each other. It’s difficult for even the devout or cynical to think of you as crazy, weird or wrong if they see your posts every day, and they secretly find them funny, insightful, relatable or cute.
Perhaps in the future, it will be safer to share your afterlife interests openly. It will not be necessary to be so vigilant, and hesitation will give way to a more forthright assertion that you ‘see dead people’. But until then, choose your circle wisely, disclose slowly, and know that gaining access to your deepest truths is something that ought to be earned.
Now, I’d love to hear from you. Which point in this article stood out to you? Have you ever overshared about your spiritual beliefs and regretted it? Do you have a question for me on the subject of disclosing your beliefs?
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Thank you for this insightful article. I totally agree with sharing personal experiences with caution. At work, in a position of trust and authority, I am very mindful of who I share my beliefs with. I use my intuition and links with spirit so often to guide me but recognise this can’t be shared! So when I have a hunch or am aware of something at a deeper level than could be possible I put it down to a gut feeling - this seems to be accepted.
I use tarot regularly as a means of communication with spirit and wondered if you have experience of this or have any guidance?