From Actor to Healer: Alan Rickman's New Life as a Spirit Guide, Book 1

Chapter 4 - The Ogre Feeling

While binge-watching Alan Rickman's movies on Netflix for a few weeks, a subtle change was taking place in me. I was exhausted every day, no matter how much sleep I got, and a subtle yet seething anger burned in my heart, although I never lashed out at anyone. I complained of feeling like an "ogre," which was my way of saying I didn't feel like myself.

This "ogre" feeling had flared up before, while I was grieving the loss of my father in 2011. I remembered that my despair and grief had made me moody and distrustful of people, causing me to withdraw from the company of others for a few months. While I felt emotionally stronger by the summer of 2011, the "ogre" feeling had remained. I was forced to accept that the malaise would require more time to heal. It was time to move on with my life and return to the spiritual community.

That's when I decided to complete my Reiki training and obtain certification as a Reiki Master. My teacher's requirements included attending an afternoon training class once a month for six months plus assisting at several Reiki workshops. Throughout the training, I also attended her weekly Reiki circles and other events she offered on a regular basis, including meditation classes.

At the end of one of her meditation classes in late 2011, I ran into Wayne and his eleven-year-old granddaughter who had just walked in. I didn't know that a Reiki Level I graduation had been scheduled immediately following the class. Wayne's granddaughter was graduating. As part of our Reiki Master training, Wayne and I had both assisted at this Reiki Level I workshop a couple weeks earlier. Because of this, I asked if I could stay and observe the graduation.

The graduating students sat in a circle while Wayne and I sat next to each other against the wall. The ceremony was barely underway when the energy in the room shifted and I slipped into a meditative state. Suddenly my right calf felt ice-cold. I wondered if the air conditioning had kicked in. However, no other part of my body felt chilled. I looked around and didn't see a vent above me, so I dismissed the sensation as my imagination. After a moment, the coldness disappeared. Then, just as suddenly, my right wrist became ice-cold. I moved my left hand to cover it to give it warmth when a realization dawned on me. That wasn't the air conditioning—that was my dad!

A scene then flashed in my mind's eye. I was sitting in a musty old library, surrounded by stacks of leather-bound books. My father was beside me. Covered head to toe in the heavy dark robes that a monk would wear, we were poring over several books laid open on the table in front of us.

When my father spoke, there was no mistaking him for someone else. The soft voice in my mind was the same voice he'd had in life. "We are spiritual brothers," he said without moving his lips. "Don't be angry. It doesn't mean anything."

I was so overwhelmed by this unexpected contact that I broke down in tears. I tried to sob quietly so that I wouldn't disturb the Reiki ceremony.

This was the first time I'd received a message from my dad since his passing. I figured he'd chosen that moment because I was surrounded by people I trusted in a safe environment, and I was in an expanded state of consciousness.

A moment later, the library scene disappeared. It took me a few minutes to process what my father had said. He was telling me that we were on the same path and we were both learning. We were working together, supporting one another. He was urging me to release my anger over his death. He didn't want me to suffer and carry resentments.

Then something shifted in me. My father's presence grew around my body and in my crown chakra(3) at the top of my head. I sensed that my dad had been trying to convey a message to me through this chakra ever since his death.

The crown chakra is connected to the cosmos and consciousness in all dimensions. My father's message was so vast and celestial that it had struggled to filter down to my conscious mind. My brain simply wasn't equipped to handle it. It was like trying to funnel a blast of water from a fire hose through a straw. As a result, the message had gotten stuck in my crown and caused an overload of sorts.

At last, the energy of the Reiki Level I ceremony had now cleared my crown, bringing instant mental clarity. The mysterious "ogre" feeling evaporated. Then the gist of my dad's message—what my brain was finally able to process—was revealed to me. After my father's death, he had experienced an awesome fathomless oneness that I can only call God. It was a gift of pure bliss. He wanted to share that gift with me to thank me for all the help I'd given him at the end of his life. He wanted me to know what he'd seen that moment when his life had ended and his soul had separated from his body. This was also his way of letting me know that he was okay now and in a good place. He had moved on and wanted me to do the same.

This memory of the first occurrence of the "ogre" feeling in 2011 made me wonder if I was subconsciously reliving the pain of losing my parents. I struggled the first few months of each year because the anniversaries of their deaths were in February (my father) and April (my mother).

In March 2016, I missed three Reiki circles because I didn't feel like wearing a fake smile and addressing a crowd of thirty-five or more about the benefits of Reiki—not to mention performing Reiki on two or three people each week. When I finally returned, one of the Reiki Masters who attended on a regular basis asked me, "Do you still work here?" I had never missed so many Reiki circles since Wayne had opened Spiritus. Thankfully, I got the month off from teaching, because no one signed up for our March class.

Thinking that unhealed grief might be the source of my foul mood, I performed a series of Reiki treatments on myself, but that had no effect.

Then I wondered if a change of atmosphere would help to recharge my batteries and lift the "ogre" feeling. Maybe a weekend hike would do the trick. I usually visited Zion National Park in southern Utah three or four times a year. Less than a three-hour drive from Las Vegas, Zion is famous for its stunning panoramic views of red mountains and miles of hiking trails. A friend had bought a cabin near the park, and he let me stay there whenever the guest room was available.

I wasted no time and arranged a trip for the last weekend of March. While I found it invigorating to climb Angels Landing, one of the most strenuous and spectacular trails in Zion, I still didn't feel like myself upon my return home.

Despite all my efforts, I was unable to release my inexplicable anger. By now, I had the growing desire to quit Spiritus. Before each Reiki circle, I would feel uneasy. It made no sense, though, because I loved Reiki, the center, and Wayne. Was there another spiritual explanation?

All I knew was that I was dreading the upcoming Reiki class the second weekend of April. One of the benefits of teaching Reiki is that the teacher receives a healing along with the student, just as a Reiki practitioner receives a healing while performing a treatment on someone else. I hoped that the relaxing environment would provide some insight and relief.

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(3) Chakra is an ancient Sanskrit term that means "wheel, disk." According to yogic philosophy, chakras are energy centers which regulate the flow of consciousness throughout the body. While the body has hundreds of chakras, seven main ones run the length of the spine to the top of the head, corresponding with major glands of the endocrine system. While chakras cannot be seen physically, they can be observed indirectly through spiritual practices such as meditation and Reiki.