When I finished my book, The Messenger, a part of me was afraid to let it go out into the world. What will people think? I worried. No, I did not write an expose, or a provocative tell-all. I wrote about a spirit guide. But my ego kept interrupting, kept nagging me with its insistent question: Really? A Spirit Guide? What will people think?
Imagine this: You have been given the most beautiful gift, a gift of love, and hope, a glimpse into another lifetime, and your ego whispers that into your ear.
There is a place in the book where I talk about withholding this information from Bill, the sweetheart who was to become my husband. It was relatively early in our relationship, and I didn’t know if disclosing my foray into the world of metaphysics would end it all between us. And here is the ego part – I didn’t want to be ridiculed. Oh, but I underestimated him. Bill did not ridicule me. He did not laugh at me. He believed me. Imagine being married to someone like that, someone who believes you. Someone who believes in you, no matter what.
When it came time to make the book public, Bill was gone. He had read several versions, helped edit it, and encouraged me every step of the way. When he died, I lost a lot of confidence, a state the ego is always waiting for. I wanted to appear as if I were in control of myself, in control of things. I didn’t want my colleagues and friends to think that I had gone round the bend, or was an aging hippie. (A house inspector who overheard me talking about the book actually called me that.) I was afraid people would think that I was just a little…strange. As a matter of fact, when I started receiving my guide’s story, the thought had crossed my mind that I might be losing touch with reality. There is a line in my book to that effect:
“I just do what keeps me alive. I ‘tune in.’ If I’m insane, I don’t care.”
If you’ve been reading my blog long enough, you know that I am capable of getting off track. But I always find my way back. This time, I’ve had help from my friends, who have been sending me emails as they’ve been reading the book – sweet, heartfelt, touching notes. I talked to a friend on the phone yesterday, who told me that when her husband was rushed to the ER and had stopped breathing, she had my book with her. It kept her company through those lonely hours. Thank God, he came through okay. I’m glad it was with you, Peggy.
THAT’S why I sent it out into the world. If it can comfort someone, if it can offer them hope, or if it can just help them get through a few lonely, frightening hours, then the book will be doing what it is supposed to do. This isn’t my book. It is Lukhamen’s. My spirit guide. It is Eddie’s. My son. They gave me this book, and it has a purpose. It is here to comfort. It is to hold out hope to those who need it. It is for those who are in pain and mourning. It isn’t about me. I’ve made that journey.
The ego is clever. It says, You are the author. You created this. And then it blames you for it. Your friends are not going to understand. You can always tell when the ego is around, because it makes you feel bad. It makes you feel wrong, or afraid.
But here’s the other thing about the ego; it is a coward. It will back off as soon as you recognize it. It will fade away as you pray for peace. I have to live with my ego, just like everybody else. But I have learned when to tell it to…bugger off.
Look for The Messenger: The Improbable Story of a Grieving Mother and a Spirit Guide by Helen Delaney on http://www.Amazon.com