I am going to be very real here...raw...the most transparent I can be about the process that comes with the gifts of connection and translation of those who are no longer in body. Of what can sometimes feel like real torment in that process.
Fuck this is hard.
In my years of being in the public eye with my work, I have never had more messages come to me from all over the world asking me to connect with Chris Cornell. Some bullied me...some pleaded... some respectfully asked me to look into his death. Also, never in the years have I awoken to message after message, across every possible platform...the day the world learned of his death.
I knew one song by him. One song only...I have since his death began listening to him. I have to admit I am disappointed in myself to only be discovering his soul after his passing. Like a stone, that is the song I knew. When it used to come on satellite radio...as I was passing stations...I would keep it on...because his voice moved me. I listen to jazz...blues...classical...and I am beginning to expand my horizons in my musical go to's. I say this to explain why I never further listened to his work...until recently. My loss.
From the first instant of learning of his death...I felt connection. To him. To what happened. To a very deep and clear communication. I have waited this long to come forward for several reasons. One, in respect of his children and family. Two, because in all honesty...there are some things I cannot go into here and never will. I honor what I am guided to share...and I honor what I am told to be safe about. That is all I am going to say here concerning the way I will go about expressing what has come to me.
I want to say Chris Cornell is a very clear and powerful soul. His spirit, very capable. Very palpable. Laser beam focused in his way of communicating. I am sure it differs for all he has come to. For me, it has been mostly dreams. Full, vivid, detailed, deep, lucid dreams. Also, impressions, when I am in meditation. Also, clear communication through devices.
As I am typing this, I am already emotional. My right ear is blasting out...which happens every time I am in contact with energy outside of this 3rd dimensional realm. My legs feel like noodles. I take very seriously what I do. The gifts I have been given. The responsibility in them. The responsibility in my words. The responsibility in channeling...translating what is coming forward in a way that is absolute and not wrongly perceived. I take very seriously the loved ones of those in spirit. I take very seriously my safety when it comes to situations that are dark...and beyond what anything I say will ever change.
I can only write as it comes through...again...as it has come through...and so, know that as you read this...I am channeling as best I can. Know also that I will only write what he wants me to, no matter how difficult that may be to do...or translate into words.
A man loses himself.
It is a slow loss. Inch by inch. Speck by speck.
Now he is in deep. Deeper. Deeper still.
Now his outer world is less and less of who he is and more and more of what they want him to be.
It is a pressure cooker. A volcano waiting to erupt. It is an inner world that is created...like a crater going deep into the middle of the earth. And that man finds more and more of his mind, his spirit, his fight leaving his hands...falling deep into that sinkhole within.
All men can relate to this. At least, that is what he says to me. Every married man. Every grown man. Every man gettin' old.
There is something that gets lost from boyhood to manhood...that the man willingly hands over. To lover. To money. To fame. To wife. To children. To the machine.
That is not to say he was all unhappy. That is not to say he was all happy.
There is an unconsciousness...a certain sleep...that most times never gets triggered.
Did Chris Cornell commit suicide? Not intentionally. But he did kill himself. Slowly.
Men, he wants you to listen closely.
Regardless of whether he died because he was murdered...or intentional...or accidental...what he wants to speak about first is his first death. And then the thousands more between boyhood until his last breath.
He allows me to feel in dreams how much religious saturation there still was in his head. His self-talk. Not his beliefs...but more a battering inner voice...that came from dogma. That came from never quite feeling clean enough. That came from a deep sensitivity to the world and its sufferings. The soul urge to save the world clashing with the ego as it grew to be a larger shadow. The ego only growing larger because he was giving up more and more of his nature. It starts off subtle, he says. Like an old tale that talks about the wolf who comes upon a knife stuck in the snow in the dead of winter. The knife is covered in blood. The wolf is hungry. The knife has been stuck in the snow, blade up for some time. The wolf begins to lick it...and the knife is so cold...it numbs the tongue. The wolf continues...not knowing...not feeling a thing...until it is too late.
Some people notice. Some don't. Some don't give AF as long as you keep being who they want and need for you to be.
This is hindsight, people.
He made many choices along the way that harmed himself. He wants the world to know that. He wants that understood. He wants it understood to the bones...that someone reading this tonight will get what he is saying and make a choice from this day forward to no longer do the same to themselves.
The night of his death he was fucked up in ways he had not been in a long time. Maybe ever. Whether that is from being given drugs he was not aware of. Whether that be from them being laced with what he was not aware of, I will not speak of here. I will only speak of what he showed me he was feeling.
Have you ever seen a cat or a dog attacking their own tail because they don't realize it is theirs? Have you ever seen an animal look itself in the mirror and go nuts because he thinks it is another animal he is seeing?
This is what he has shown me...both in vision...and feeling...impression. All he knew is what was before him had to be destroyed. For life. For protection. For self-defense. He didn't understand that what he was destroying was himself.
It was not intended. It was not conscious. It was not suicide in the sense of making a choice.
There is some very dark energy surrounding his death. I am not willing to get into that, and I hope you will respect this. I am saying what he most definitely wants said...and in that, I feel complete in my obligation and dedication to that. I will say only this, I am sure how it happened shocked every person in contact with him in those moments.
His children are of his greatest concern. More than anything else. More than anyone else. That they know he did not leave them out of his sound mind. He never would.
He blames no one though. That may be hard for some to swallow. He is not concerned with justice. He is taking the responsibility for what led him to his ending. Choice by choice. Brick by brick. Step by step.
Be true to yourself. Be true to your soul. Don't let anyone or anything rob you from your resilient truth. Be conscious enough of your soul to listen to it. Be its champion. If we did more of that, there would be less suffering in this world. If we did more of that, there would be less violence in this world. If we did more of that, there would be less greed in this world. He wants this said.
If you are suffering tonight, please know that you matter. Your life matters. Your soul matters. Standing for your truth matters. I really feel he was about to do that. In a big way. Honor him by doing it for yourself.
If this has touched you...if you can feel in your soul there is truth to it, please share this blog post. Let is spread across the world. Let his words be heard.
This is short, yes...but exactly how he wants it to be.
I am going to end this with the last three words I hear him saying for me to say to you...the same three words I know he has said to himself...and reconciled himself to.-
"I am sorry."