Do the Deceased Watch the Living?

Edgar Cayce

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Om9AGfG3d2E&t=4s

12 May 2025

Join me on a thought-provoking exploration of one of humanity's most enduring questions: Do our departed loved ones continue to watch over us from beyond?  Through examining ancient traditions, modern science, and remarkable personal experiences, this video investigates the mysterious connection between the living and the dead.  Drawing inspiration from Edgar Cayce's revolutionary insights on consciousness and the afterlife, we'll journey beyond conventional understanding to discover how quantum physics, near-death experiences, and cross-cultural spiritual practices all point to a profound truth - that the boundaries between life and death may be more permeable than we've been taught to believe.  Whether you're seeking comfort after loss or fascinated by the mysteries of consciousness, this video offers compelling evidence that those we love are never truly gone.

I've always been fascinated by what happens after we die; the question haunts many of us. Do our departed loved ones continue to watch over us from the other side?  This profound inquiry isn't just about curiosity, it touches on the very essence of our existence, and the relationships that define our lives.  Throughout human history, different cultures and spiritual traditions have offered various perspectives on this mystery.  Some believe the deceased maintain awareness of earthly affairs, while others insist the dead enter an entirely different realm of existence, disconnected from our world.  While researching this topic, I encountered the remarkable work of Edgar Casey; this humble man from Kentucky would enter trance states and provide astonishingly detailed information about health, spirituality, and the afterlife.  What made Cayce's insights particularly compelling was how they seemed to bridge Eastern spiritual concepts with Western religious traditions.

My own journey into this question began after losing my grandmother.  In the weeks following her funeral, strange coincidences occurred; her favourite song playing at unexpected moments, dreams where she appeared with messages, and the inexplicable feeling of her presence during difficult decisions.  Were these merely psychological coping mechanisms or something more?  As I spoke with others who had similar experiences, I discovered I wasn't alone.  A friend described how after her father's passing, she found herself instinctively avoiding a dangerous situation on the highway, something she couldn't explain but felt certain was her father's intervention.  Another acquaintance shared how he found an important family document in a place he'd searched multiple times before, only discovering it on the anniversary of his mother's death.  These personal stories, while compelling, aren't conclusive evidence.

The scientific community generally dismisses such accounts as coincidence, wishful thinking, or the mind's attempt to find patterns and meaning during grief.  Psychologists might explain these experiences as our brain's way of maintaining bonds with those we've lost, a natural and healthy part of the grieving process, yet across different religious traditions we find consistent themes suggesting continued connection between the living and the dead.  In many practices, prayers for the deceased are believed to help them in their spiritual journey; this implies some form of ongoing relationship between our world and wherever they have gone.  What makes this question so powerful is how it intersects with our deepest fears and hopes, we fear true separation.  The idea that those we love are completely gone, while hoping that consciousness in some form continues beyond physical death, the possibility that our loved ones might still witness our triumphs and sorrows, offers both comfort and for some, a sense of moral accountability.

As I continue this exploration, I find myself drawn to a middle path; one that neither dismisses these experiences nor accepts them uncritically. Perhaps the truth lies somewhere between absolute separation and complete awareness in a realm where the borders between life and death are more permeable than we've been taught to believe.  I decided to delve deeper into historical records and spiritual teachings regarding the connection between the living and the dead.  What I discovered was a tapestry of beliefs, far more complex than I initially imagined.  Ancient civilizations from Egypt to China established elaborate rituals to honour their ancestors, believing the deceased could influence earthly affairs.  The Egyptians left offerings in tombs, convinced the dead required sustenance in the afterlife.  Chinese families still burn paper money and offerings, maintaining the belief that ancestors need these items in the spirit world.  These practices suggest a persistent conviction that the dead remain connected to our realm.  Modern western perspectives, however, have largely embraced a more clinical approach to death; the divide between science and spirituality created a chasm in our understanding, with empirical evidence demanding tangible proof that consciousness survives physical death, yet countless individuals continue to report meaningful encounters with departed loved ones.

Dr Raymond Moody, who coined the term “near-death experience” in 1975, documented over 1,000 cases of people who were clinically dead before resuscitation, many described floating above their bodies, moving through tunnels of light, and encountering deceased relatives.  While sceptics attribute these experiences to oxygen deprivation or neurochemical reactions in the dying brain, the consistency of these accounts across cultures and age groups remains striking.  My research led me to the work of Dr Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who spent decades working with dying patients.  She documented numerous cases where the terminally ill reported seeing and conversing with previously deceased relatives in the days or hours before their own deaths.  These deathbed visions often brought immense comfort to the dying, suggesting a transitional meeting place between worlds.  During a particularly intense period of my investigation, I spoke with Maria, a hospice nurse with 30 years of experience “I’ve witnessed too many inexplicable moments to dismiss them," she told me quietly, "patients who haven't spoken for days suddenly having lucid conversations with invisible visitors, people with no prior knowledge somehow knowing when a distant relative has passed.  There's something happening that goes beyond what medical science can explain.”

The scientific community has begun exploring these phenomena more seriously in recent decades, studies at prestigious institutions have examined after-death-communication (ADC), where the bereaved experience what they believe to be contact from deceased loved ones.  Dr Julie Bichel's controlled laboratory studies at the Windbridge Research Centre, have yielded intriguing results when testing mediums under blinded conditions.  What fascinates me most are the patterns that emerge from these diverse sources, the dead rarely seem concerned with mundane details of earthly life, instead communications often centre around reassurance, unresolved emotions, or guidance during significant life events.  This suggests not constant surveillance, but rather a selective awareness based on emotional connection.  I recalled the teachings of Edgar Cayce who described the afterlife, not as a distant realm, but as a different vibrational state, existing alongside our own.  His readings suggested that consciousness continues on multiple planes simultaneously, and that the deceased maintain awareness of their loved ones through bonds of affection and shared experience, rather than continuous observation.

One afternoon, while visiting a small church in New England, I encountered an elderly man who shared his experience following his wife's death after 60 years of marriage; “I was driving home from her funeral when our song came on the radio, our obscure tune they never play anymore.  The car filled with her perfume.  I know what people would say, coincidence, grief imagination, but I've lived long enough to know when something is real, she was there just for a moment letting me know she was okay”.  These personal accounts, while anecdotal, raise profound questions; if consciousness is merely a product of brain function, how do we explain shared death experiences where healthy individuals report similar visions while attending to a dying loved one, or the numerous cases where people report receiving information they couldn't possibly know through conventional means?

The quantum physics concept of non-locality, where particles once connected continue to affect each other regardless of distance, provides an intriguing scientific parallel.  Could consciousness operate similarly, maintaining connections that transcend physical separation, even death?  As I continued my exploration, I realized that perhaps the most important question isn't whether the dead watch us, but rather how this possibility might transform how we live if our actions and choices remain visible to those we've lost.  Does this change how we navigate our remaining days?  Does it challenge us to live more authentically knowing that true separation might be an illusion?  I found myself standing at a crossroads in my research, having explored both historical beliefs and contemporary accounts.  I needed to understand how different spiritual traditions view the relationship between the living and the dead.  This exploration led me to unexpected revelations about the nature of consciousness itself.

Buddhism teaches that consciousness continues after death, entering either rebirth or various transitional states.  The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes in intricate detail the experiences of consciousness during the 49 days following death; within this tradition the deceased retain awareness of their loved one’s grief but are encouraged to release earthly attachments to progress spiritually.  This suggests not constant watching but a gradual transition where awareness of earthly matters diminishes.  In contrast, many indigenous cultures maintain that ancestors remain active participants in community life; the Māori of New Zealand believe departed family members become guardians who guide and protect their descendants during important ceremonies, the veil between worlds thins, allowing direct communication.  Similarly, Mexican Day of the Dead celebrations create sacred space for reconnection with ancestors who are believed to visit during this time.  Islamic tradition holds that the soul enters a state called “bzzac”, a barrier or intermediate realm between death and resurrection; while in this state the soul retains some awareness of earthly affairs, particularly when family members visit graves, or offer prayers.  However, this awareness is limited and focused primarily on spiritual matters rather than mundane daily activities.  What struck me most was how these diverse traditions share certain common elements despite their cultural differences; most suggest that the dead retain some connection to those they loved but are primarily focused on their own spiritual journey.  The watching, when it occurs, seems selective rather than constant, centred around moments of significance, or when directly called upon through prayer or ritual.

I decided to interview a grief counsellor who works with bereaved clients, reporting after death communications.  Dr Samantha Fletcher has documented hundreds of such experiences over her 20-year career; what's fascinating she explained, is the consistency in how these experiences unfold.  They typically occur during transitional states while falling asleep, waking up, or during meditation.  The deceased rarely appear as ghostly figures, instead they communicate through symbols, synchronicities, or sensory experiences; a familiar scent, a significant song, or objects moving in meaningful ways.  Dr Fletcher noted that these experiences often occur at pivotal moments; births, marriages, graduations, or during times of crisis, when guidance is most needed.  This suggests not continuous watching but rather an awareness of emotional states and significant life events.  I recalled a profound experience shared by James, a combat veteran who lost his best friend in Afghanistan.  During a particularly dark period, contemplating suicide, James felt a sudden physical pressure on his shoulder, his friend's signature gesture of support.  “In that moment I knew he was there” James told me, tears streaming down his face, “I could feel him telling me to keep going.  That experience changed everything for me”.

Quantum physics offers intriguing parallels to these spiritual perspectives.  Physicist David Bow proposed the concept of implicate order, a deeper reality from which our physical world unfolds.  In this model, consciousness may exist at a more fundamental level than matter itself, potentially continuing in this deeper reality after physical death.  Similarly, the concept of non-local consciousness suggests awareness may not be confined to the brain but may extend beyond physical boundaries.  Dr Pim van Lomel, a cardiologist who conducted extensive research on near-death experiences, proposes that consciousness may be non-local, functioning like a field of information that interfaces with the brain but isn't produced by it.  If true, this would explain how consciousness could continue after brain function ceases.  During my investigation I spoke with Thomas, a physics professor who experienced what he described as contact from his deceased wife.  Being scientifically minded, he initially dismissed his experiences as grief induced hallucinations, but then she communicated specific information about where to find important documents “information I couldn't possibly have known” he explained, “that's when I realized we might need new models to understand consciousness and its continuity”.

The most compelling evidence however comes from children who report past life memories.   Dr Jim Tucker, at the University of Virginia, has documented over 2,500 cases of young children with detailed memories of previous lives.  Many provide verifiable details about deceased individuals they couldn't have known through normal means, including obscure personal information, cause of death, and even where valuable items were hidden.  What surprised me was learning how these various traditions, scientific explorations, and personal accounts, align with what Edgar Cayce once described during his readings; he spoke of the afterlife as consisting of various vibrational states or dimensions, with consciousness continuing its journey through these planes.  The dead, according to his readings, maintain awareness of loved ones through bonds of affection that transcend physical death, but their primary focus shifts to their own spiritual evolution.  As I compiled these diverse perspectives, I began to see patterns emerge.  The veil between worlds may be thinner than we've been taught to believe, perhaps the question isn't whether the dead watch the living but rather how the relationship between consciousness, love and perception, continues beyond physical separation.

As my journey neared its conclusion, I found myself contemplating the profound implications of all I had discovered.  If consciousness indeed continues beyond physical death, and if some form of connection persists between the living and the departed, how might this reshape our understanding of existence itself?  I spent a week at a monastery in the mountains, speaking with monks who maintain ancient practices of communicating with ancestors.  Brother Michael, who had spent 40 years in contemplative practice, shared an insight that resonated deeply; the question of whether the dead watch us assumes separation that may not exist.  Perhaps we're asking the wrong question, instead of wondering if they watch from over there, consider that the boundaries between here and there may be constructs of limited perception.  This perspective echoed the quantum principles of entanglement and non-locality; once two particles interact, they remain connected, regardless of distance, each instantaneously affecting the other.  Perhaps consciousness operates similarly, maintaining connections that transcend our conventional understanding of space and time.

During my research, I encountered the work of Dr Helen Wambach, who conducted regression studies with over 1,000 subjects, documenting their memories of life between lives.  Her findings suggest that souls often choose to reincarnate in soul groups, clusters of beings, who repeatedly incarnate together in different relationships across lifetimes.  If true this would explain why certain connections feel so profound and immediate, we may be recognizing souls we've known across many existences.  The more I explored the more I recognized patterns across diverse sources of knowledge; mystics from various traditions describe reality as a unified field of consciousness, from which individual awareness temporarily emerges like waves from an ocean.  Within this model, death represents not an end but a transformation, a return to a broader awareness while maintaining the unique qualities developed during physical life.

Among the most compelling accounts I collected were terminal lucidity cases, instances where individuals with severe dementia or brain damage, experienced sudden complete clarity shortly before death.  In one remarkable case, a woman who hadn't recognized her family for years, suddenly sat up, called each relative by name, had meaningful conversations and shared insight into family matters, before peacefully passing hours later.  Such cases challenged the materialist assumption that consciousness is merely a product of brain function.  I recalled a conversation with Elizabeth, whose 4-year-old son had never met his grandfather, yet spoke about him with uncanny accuracy “he told me about Grandpa's red tractor and the missing fingers on his left hand” details he couldn't possibly know she explained, “when I asked how he knew these things he simply said "Grandpa told me when I was sleeping”.  These weren't vague statements, they were specific verifiable details about a man who died 2 years before my son was born.”

After months of investigation I returned to the teachings of Edgar Cayce that had initially sparked my journey.  While his descriptions of the afterlife might seem fantastic to some, many aligned surprisingly well with quantum physics concepts, developing decades after his death.  His readings suggested that consciousness exists in multiple dimensions simultaneously, and that what we perceive as death is merely a shift in awareness from one vibrational state to another.  What became increasingly clear, was that the relationship between the living and the dead, isn't one of occasional visitation or distant observation, rather it appears to be an ongoing dialogue between different states of the same consciousness, like water existing simultaneously as ice, liquid and vapor, each state with different properties yet composed of the same essential substance.  This perspective transforms how we might view grief and separation, perhaps we never truly lose those we love.  The connection remains though the nature of communication changes, like radio waves that surround us constantly but require a receiver to be heard, our departed loved ones may maintain awareness of us, accessible when we attune ourselves to their frequency through meditation, prayer, or in those final moments between sleeping and waking.

Jessica who lost her daughter in a car accident, shared a profound experience that occurred on the first anniversary of her death; “I was planting flowers at her grave when a butterfly landed on my hand and stayed there for nearly 10 minutes.  Butterflies were her symbol; she collected them her entire life.  As I sat there, I felt a wave of peace wash over me, a knowing beyond words that she was okay, that she was still with me somehow.  It wasn't wishful thinking or imagination, it was a knowledge, deeper than thought”.  Throughout diverse spiritual teachings, scientific exploration, and thousands of personal accounts, certain consistencies emerge.  The dead appear most aware of emotional states rather than mundane activities, they seem particularly attuned to moments of joy, crisis, or significant transition, and most notably their communications typically focus on reassurance, love, and occasionally guidance, rarely on judgment or surveillance.  Perhaps the most beautiful implication is that love itself may be the mechanism through which these connections persist.  Quantum entanglement requires particles to interact similarly; emotional bonds may create connections that transcend physical separation; this would explain why profound experiences of after- death communication most commonly occur between those who share deep bonds of affection.

As I conclude this exploration, I'm reminded of ancient wisdom that views death not as an ending but as a transformation, a passage from one room to another in the vast mansion of existence.  The boundaries between life and death, like those between waking and dreaming, may be more permeable than our modern mindset has allowed us to perceive.  Whether the dead watch the living may ultimately be a question of limited framing.  Perhaps a more accurate understanding is that consciousness continues its journey beyond physical form maintaining connections forged through love, while expanding into broader awareness.  Those we've lost are not gone but transformed, not absent but present in ways our physical senses aren't designed to fully perceive.  This perspective offers not just comfort but profound responsibility.  If the veils between worlds are indeed thin, if consciousness continues and connections persist, then how we live matters not just for this lifetime, but beyond each act of love, each moment of presence, each choice for growth, ripples across dimensions of existence contributing to an unfolding tapestry of consciousness that transcends what we know as death.

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