Poetry / Philosphy from Spirit
By Brian Dean

Part of an exercise that we were to do in a mediumship class was to connect to one of our spirit guides and gather information. (Spirit guides are those that have lived on this earth and now exist in spirit, as opposed to angels who are purely spiritual beings. Our guides help us make the right decisions and stay to our path.) The class exercise one day was to talk to one of our guides, and then to get some philosophy from them.

Mine came into view and was a fox, yes, a fox. We actually had a conversation “face to face”. The thing about having conversations with spirits is that I hear them in my head in my voice. (I know I hear my voice in my head a lot as I always seem to be talking to myself. But maybe I’m not talking to myself. Interesting thought.) 

So, the information I got was like this…

Sex: Male.
Relationship to me: He claimed to be a guide, or trailblazer.
His description: I literally saw a red fox.
How did he pass to spirit, Age: I got several things here. He told me he was 25 and working on his autobiography, and he got sick. He also told me that he was stuck by a car, as in a dog being hit by a car. (I have to believe that he was joking with me.)
Describe their personality: Snarky, smartass. Yup, my guide is a smartass. Makes all too much sense.
What objects did they own that they were proud of: He had this map with markings on it of places he was going to go.
What are memories of things they did with you: He said that he did his job. He would take me on adventures of body and mind. He asked, “Where else do you think these clever ideas come from?”
Were they married, children?: He said he had never been married as he never had time. He was always looking away.
Where did he live: Ohio valley area in a 2 story house.
What he did for a living: Dream.
Pets: A cat when he was young.
His name: Matthew Fox.
Give a number… Why that one: 25. These where the number of adventures he was on, as in trips around the sun.
Anything else that doesn’t fit other categories: Then he just told me, “Look booby, none of this is straight forward. I’m a person being a fox, talking to you in your head, in your voice. Nothing fits.”
Why are they here? What message: I had been having trouble with some blocks. He told me to quit raising them, and to push through to the light, and stay there.

Now, through some of this, I saw his real image. He was a thin male with sandy colored hair. He was very sick and all he could do was dream about going places. This was something he never got to do because of his illness. So he put marks on the map and kept believing that he would actually get to some of these places some day.


Past the information gathering portion, we were to allow our guide to pass on some philosophy from their perspective. The following, which is passed on word for word, was what my guide wanted people to know. I felt it was worth putting here.

A rose by any other name, would still smell as sweet. One might consider that poetry, not just words. But everything is poetry, not just words.

The movement of the sun across the sky is just so matching and poetic. The fall of rain from darkened skies cleansing the soiled ground. The movement of all bodies in the universe, as well as all bodies interacting with each other, with nature upon the planet.

Each movement we make has its poeticness about it, how we interact with others, with ourselves, with nature. Everything moves. Everything interacts. Everything has a purpose, and an intention, and a harmony through the interactions of all things. We blend, we bounce, we feel, we hide, we stand tall. We feel strength. We feel failure. This too is balance, and poetry.

Poetry has to balance with the proper interactions of things, how they com e together, what they mean, how they grow and progress. You think of them in words, or rhyme where things build to a certain conclusion, a meaning, a point.

But words are not all that is poetry. Poetry is cause and effect, the interactions coming to conclusions, pushed by meaning, making points, creating growth. That is more poetry than anything you could write down.

Oh you, on the human level only see so far, and with such limited interpretation. Look beyond what you think you see. Allow new perceptions to enter your consciousness , feel beyond what you think yours cope of feeling is . Then you open to the mind of the universe. Yes, the universe.

The universe with all its complexities, with all its movement and balances is a blending, and poetic in itself. But then when you look beyond the norm al, beyond what you have been taught, and open your mind to things beyond the physical, then you see the integration of all things , the movement of all things going by, interacting as they should. This filters down to your level as words and feelings, and you make the best of it that you can. But know that while you may feel a small thing in this concept, you are an integral part. You blend and make the whole what it is.

And as the rose grows, and blooms, and then withers, so do you, leaving some mark on the landscape of what was your life. And that is poetry indeed.