Changing Channels

I recently became aware of a physician colleague who claims to have the ability to channel those who have gone on to worlds beyond the grave. As he tells the story, he became aware of these powers somewhat gradually. Ten years ago, he started out with the idea that he would write a book about his conversations with dead celebrities. But he never seemed to make any headway until he realized that the conversations in his head were not imaginary, but real attempts by the spirits of said stars to communicate with our world. Once he let go of his scientific hesitation and accept the voices for what they are, he was able to write freely. To date he has produced five books on the topic, including, “Is There Comedy in the Afterlife?” in which Bob Hope returns for yet another NBC (Netherworld Broadcasting Company) holiday special.

I am truly fascinated by the concept of channeling, but not quite sure I can buy fully into it. While my level of spirituality tends to vary with my desires for immediate divine intervention (as I suspect does everyone’s, whether they admit it or not), I fervently hope there’s something out there beyond that which we see in the world around us and in the ether beyond the grave. But I’m not too sure about spirits channeling through any particular individual, especially when these wise spirits do things that make little sense. For example, if I’m Abraham Lincoln, I might channel through the Leader of the Free World who might actually be able to do something rather than through an auto mechanic in Cuba, Kansas. (No slight on Cuba, which is a lovely place, and only two counties north of the Ottawa County town of Minneapolis, which is the home of Rock City.) And if I’m Johnny Carson I’m going to use the best writers the afterlife can offer.

(This is my theory about the coming of the Messiah as well. When he comes…and I’m purposefully avoiding the argument of who that is or when he’ll show up…I can’t help but think his wisdom would dictate that he shows up in a major media markets on a weekday early in the news cycle. Seems to me there’d be a lot better chance of getting noticed than if he came back in a suburb of the Akron-Canton Standard Metropolitan Statistical Area. Of course, if you’re bringing the Kingdom of the Lord I suppose everyone would know in pretty short order, so maybe it doesn’t matter too much.)

But wanting to give my colleague the benefit of the doubt, I thought I’d try this channeling thing myself. So I took some quiet time and a beer, dressed in loose, comfortable clothing, turned down the lights and lit a Febreeze candle (for mood and to kill the smell of cat litter). I tried to clear my head (actually a remarkably easy task given the very few things that actually live in there) and closed my eyes, hoping for a voice from the afterlife to speak to me about those things I should know, those things that make life worthwhile, those messages I should carry with me to my friends and family so we can all live in warmth and love. And while it was hard to fully submerge my skepticism, I was gratified when I started to hear from the spirits of those who had gone before.

First Charlie Chaplin came to me. He said “

;

.
."

That was heavy, and I resolved to think about this and try to apply it to my own life. But I had no chance for reflection, as Marcel Marceau came by to let me know that, “


?
!"

But clearly there was a problem. Despite my best efforts, it was still hard for me to accept the reality of what was going on. The spirits of those who went before knew they had to talk to me in a language I would understand, in a religious tradition close to my heart. So Harpo Marx came to me and exclaimed, “
HONK
BEEP

HONKBEEP

WAHWAHWAHWAHWAH.”

My life will never be the same.