My conversations with Christopher’s Spirit lasted for about a year. Every interaction between us was different, but they were all controlled by him. When I finished writing, I showed my manuscript to a few people—family and friends—and then I stored it away, not sure what to do with it. Many years later, as I was preparing for the release of my fourth book, The Allergy Solution, which I had co-written with Jonathan, Christina asked me to locate a copy of “Christopher’s book,” as we called it. She thought that our new publisher, Hay House, might be the right home for Christopher’s wisdom. I’d saved the manuscript in different formats, transferring it from computer to computer as I’d upgraded systems every few years, so I printed a new copy for us to read.
It’s hard for me to describe the shattering power of rereading this story. We felt Christopher radiating from the pages with the same brilliance we’d seen in his luminous Spirit at the moment of his death. He was so intensely, indelibly alive. I couldn’t believe I’d written those words, and I realized that they’d actually come from Chris. His voice was speaking through the prose much more than mine was. I was a novice translator trying to share the thoughts of a master.
I could see how Christopher organized my education, slowly introducing me to the knowledge he wanted to impart to keep me learning from his teaching, even in his absence. He taught me the true meaning of transcendence. We are so much more than we appear to be. Who we are is not restricted by our physical bodies. We exist even when our bodies do not. We can be robust and powerful and full of grace, even when our bodies are broken or decayed.
I encounter his Spirit almost every day in the patients I treat who suffer from chronic debilitating illness, facing pain and frustration with heart and resilience. I marvel at the children whose smiles and laughter break through whenever their symptoms abate just a little.
I’m constantly amazed by the power of the Opposite. I witness it in my own life and in the world around me. I see strength emerge from weakness, affection from alienation, and health from sickness. It’s a source of hope, and it’s also a warning. Weakness hides within strength, affection can turn to anger, sickness can overtake health. The Opposite is always present. Living with that awareness keeps me present.
I’ve discovered that the most important element to Presence is being present with yourself. Each of us deserves our own full attention, a clear and quiet space for being heard. The first part of listening to yourself is asking: Am I the person I want to be? Not in the circumstances of my life, which may be beyond my control, but within myself and my relationships with others? Life gives us so many opportunities to be who we want to be. Without Presence, we’re likely to miss them.
I still grapple with Christopher’s vision of the universe, trying to reconcile God’s moment—the Eternal Present—with the relentless, irreversible march of time that shapes my life. Accepting Christopher’s vision has led me to an understanding that is radically and surprisingly different from where I began. In God’s moment, there is no loss. Whatever was, still is. Whatever will be, already exists. When I’m able to view life through that lens, an irresistible smile spreads across my face and brings with it an uncanny serenity.
No one who knew Chris would ever have described him as serene. But there was a transcendent calmness that he developed in response to his many disappointments. “You were gonna do it?” he’d ask with a smile when someone let him down. That became his signature reaction. The intention was more important to him than the act. The possibility created his reality.
Christopher’s nonlinear thinking has helped me understand how and why we exist.
I think about the creation of the universe, what scientists call the Singularity, the moment when time and everything else began. The scientific notion of the Singularity masks an absurdity: What was present before the beginning?
I’ve come to realize that the Singularity is now. There is no beginning and no end. No before and no after. Heaven and earth, spirit and matter, are unified opposites that together create God’s moment. The universe itself is an act of overwhelming love. As Chris so emphatically explained, love exists only among separate beings. Matter is essential for separation, for the existence of the other-ness that allows love to be. That is the reason for its existence, and for ours. Through our love and caring for others, we are immersed in the divine power that creates our world.
I always believed that existence led to consciousness. First came the world and then we found our place in it. Even the Bible seems to agree: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” Adam and Eve came later.
If the universe is an act of love, consciousness is essential for existence. Our own consciousness, as individuals, is part of the Singularity. The universe exists for us to manifest love. What an uplifting opportunity and profound responsibility!
When I stumble under the weight of that responsibility, I remember Christopher’s final words of advice: “Lighten up.” And I realize that the tool he used to teach others was his imperfection, which is something we all share.