Death: Awakening to Life: Seeds Planted

Death: Awakening to Life: Seeds Planted

by Christine Contini


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At the young age of thirty-seven, Christine Contini experienced a sudden cardiac death. Over forty minutes later, she returned from the other side, carrying the keys to unlock profound understanding and seemingly supernatural abilities. Dying allowed Christine to awaken to humanity's natural energetic potentials and pierce the veil between the physical and energetic worlds. She began working with the recently deceased, the dying, and those in comas. What she learned from these experiences formed her foundation of 'Energetics'—a complete system of awareness, balance, and understanding.

In Death: Awakening to Life, Seeds Planted, Christine takes us on a journey through life, death, and rebirth. She presents fascinating information about what happens after we die and describes, from first-hand experience, the many pitfalls that can entangle the dying and their loved ones during the death process. Christine also shares heartwarming stories about gifts from the dying and their successful journeys to the other side.

These true accounts will captivate and inspire readers to question life and reality. Once we understand the fears and delusions surrounding death, unlimited possibilities of life can be fully grasped. Christine reminds us that we can challenge ourselves to live rewarding and vibrant lives, full of hope and potential.

This book is an amazing gift that provides incredible, perspective-shifting concepts. Christine’s messages enable us to recognize that death is not the end of anything, but the return to all we know yet somehow forgot.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780988585126
Publisher: Winterwolf Press
Publication date: 04/01/2018
Series: Awakening To Life
Pages: 252
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.53(d)

About the Author

Christine Contini is on a mission to bring joy, empowerment, and knowledge to the world. Her goals are to awaken the sleepers and to unveil the many miraculous advances in human evolution that we all can achieve. Through sharing her own experiences, she can illustrate what is possible and introduce slight adjustments to familiar concepts so they become life changing realizations. Christine delights in inspiring people to recognize their own innate power and to learn to completely embrace themselves as enlightened human beings. "We are all participating in this grand adventure together, and not only are we more effective when we work in groups, but it's more fun too."

Read an Excerpt

Death Awakening to Life

By Christine Contini

Winterwolf Press

Copyright © 2017 Winterwolf Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9885851-2-6


A Matter of the Heart

The Beginning

Las Vegas, 2008

For a while I had lived knowing my health required attention. Being a hard worker, a dedicated mom, and a selfless citizen wasn't enough to keep me well. In fact, it was being all those things and ignoring my own needs that seven years prior had put me in a place of desperation. December 2001, on my daughter Syndell's sixth birthday, I'd found myself in the doctor's office, thinking, I got this, I can do this alone.

I had already done a ton of research and felt prepared for what I was about to hear. Even so, when the doctor said the words, "Mrs. Contini, you have Multiple Sclerosis," I burst into tears. I was desperate for him to say more, to offer a solution that could free me from the unbearable pain I was experiencing.

I was in a rapid downward spiral for the entire year following that diagnosis, my physical health failing, only to find myself at the end of that year in bed more than eighteen hours a day. My disease was winning. For me and my family it was tragic, but I held out, believing there had to be a 'cure,' some way to be better. I was certain I would find my way out of this. I had to.

It was late summer, 2008. I sat lacing up my shoes, reminiscing over the darkness that had plagued me that first year following my diagnosis. Now, with strength gained through my newfound spirituality, I walked ten thousand steps, about five miles, every day. The depression I'd been experiencing had lifted with a new understanding of how to be well. Finally off my last prescribed medication, I was able to reach a physical balance through diet and meditation that met my body's needs.

I stepped into each day with a commitment to show the world it was possible to be well. People had always looked to me in faith for ways to move through suffering, so to add to our conversations the hope I held in my heart for others to be well seemed natural.

I walked out the door with a spring in my step. I was happy. My husband, Joseph, ran to catch up to me. Within minutes of beginning our walk the uncomfortable feeling that kept finding me in the dark was back.

I kept looking over my shoulder, convinced the flashes of light coming into my vision would be a car speeding around the corner, heading right for us, but there was nothing there. Every twig that snapped or bush that rustled made me jump. Not being a gloom-and-doom type, this feeling of darkness creeping up on us was huge. I always believed the brighter side of life would offset the constant pressure of those looking to the darker side. But tonight ...

Death felt imminent.

"Something's coming," Joseph said. He's not being himself, I thought. "You can feel it too?" I asked, his intuitive comment catching me off guard in my edgy state.

He nodded affirmatively. Strange that he's indulging me this way since I'm the one who tends to know what's coming.

I assumed my ability to form predictions was singularly related to my intelligence. A phenomenal guesser, I enjoyed the feeling of being right, seemingly able to guess the unknowable. I am just really smart, I considered. Yet, when people turned to me for more details, I had this way of minimizing myself; I was afraid of what I might imagine, and even more afraid when it was right.

"What is it?" I asked, looking again over my shoulder. The feeling was manifesting into something tangible. Maybe death itself, I considered. My fears, driven by an instinct to survive, awoke my every cell; the hair on my body stood on end. I concluded this must be how the dogs felt before a storm. Hmm, I wondered, maybe it's not mine at all. I looked to the dogs to see if the feeling came from them. They were fine, peaceful even. I tried to shrug off the darkness.

"Yes, I feel it," Joseph spoke in a low voice, looking down as he scratched the ground with a stick he had picked up.

This is definitely not like him. Gloom and doom were part of his character, but not the acceptance of premonitions as something real. From there, we both drifted off in our own thoughts, silent for the rest of the walk.

Joseph went straight to the computer the moment we arrived home. He was intently focused on something in his own temporal universe. I could see the wheels in his mind as they began to turn. Hours later, he started spouting about strokes and heart attacks. He shared what he had read in detail and for a great length of time.

"Why are you looking at all this?" I finally asked, frustrated after an hour-long litany on how to recognize the symptoms of a stroke or heart attack. Suddenly it occurred to me. "Do you think this feeling of something coming is about your mom?" His mother lived with us and had been near death a few times already.

"I don't know, I just feel I need to learn this." He didn't take his eyes off the screen, hypnotized as he scoured the internet for more information. He was always into learning details, but this time his effort was different. He went on with this, night after night, for two weeks. Each night, he seemed hurried and obsessed in his search for more and more information.

I remember asking him if he was re-reading the same material. How much stuff could there be on this one topic without repeating itself, I wondered. Occasionally, he would pull me back in with him. "Did you know, after a person's heart stops they have twelve more minutes of oxygen left in their blood?" "Did you know that women don't have the same arm pain like men during an attack?" I listened curiously with no attempt to retain the information. At the time, I couldn't relate to his fascination. I was distracted with planning for our annual family trip.

Three days before leaving for Lake Tahoe, I stood in my room, a mountain of clothes on the bed. Those of you with a large family know that packing for six can take awhile. As I folded, suddenly the feeling of foreboding was back, stronger than before. Something is coming, I thought again. I can't do this, I don't want to die! I heard my own words clearly in my head, yet it didn't sound like something I would say. I was still consciously looking forward to dying; looking forward to the day I would have a reprieve from the constant fight against depression, a release from the intrusions into my life from outside pressures I didn't understand; freedom from how often they consumed me. I wouldn't understand until much later that this was me, the true me, pushing through my depression to fight for my life.

Up until this, I had only clearly heard the voices of my children in my head. Even so, I barely accepted telepathy as real. Moved by this thought, I looked at the shirt in my hands — it was John's. I folded it, both fists across my chest. Oh no, I thought, sinking to the bed. All at once, my brain supplied the entire scene: the six of us in the van, rolling down the six thousand foot mountainside to our deaths. It was something I had imagined for myself, but never with the kids along. What else could feel this big, this heavy? I accepted the scene as a premonition.

I had wanted to be dead for most of my life; every day was a struggle, every minute I chose life an accomplishment. But the idea of my children dying, that was terrifying. I was willing to fight for them. Is it going to happen? I questioned, doubting my own fears. If this isn't real, why does it feel so huge? I pulled the shirt to my face, taking in a breath through my nose to smell the fabric as I used it to catch my silent tears.

Joseph came in; I stood frozen with the shirt to my face.

"We can't go," I said as a matter of fact, raising my eyes to him. I was hard that way, immovable at times.

Joseph, gentle with me, although a little impatient, was used to what he considered my overly emotional reactions to things. "Come on," he said, as he lifted me by my arms from the bed to hug me. "It's okay. We do this trip every year. There's nothing wrong." He released me and added, "Everyone is looking forward to it," as if he knew that my need to put the happiness of others above my own fears would lock me in.

The morning we were leaving, I was in the bathroom packing up the toothbrushes and shampoos, feeling anxious, caged-in even. I started pacing, my breath quickening. This is a full-on panic attack, I thought.

"I can't handle this!" I cried aloud as the panic became debilitating. I grabbed at the bag on the bed to unpack it just as Joseph walked in.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"We can't go!" I cried frantically. I was hysterical, convinced we needed to abandon our trip. We are all going to die! I screamed in my head to break the unbearable silence.

He grabbed me again, holding me tight, slowly pleading with me, "Christine, we talked about this." He paused, trying to think of what to say. "We want to go on this trip. Everything is going to be okay." We sat on the bed together until my crying came to an end. Though externally silent, my internal struggle remained.

"Okay," he said. "You stay here and I will let you know when we're ready." He figured if I didn't move from this place, this space of appearing calm, I would be able to leave. I sat there, unable to understand the feelings that pressured my body, my mind, and my spirit.

He packed up the van as he always did. He had a meticulous need to load the luggage his way; a puzzle that only he could see, to make sure it all fit on the luggage rack. I appreciated his effort as I hated having bags at my feet. His work left the interior space free for bodies, handheld radios, travel games, and snacks. Although appreciated, it took more than an hour. An hour of me sitting on the bed, feeling my impending doom. Once he called for me to go, I felt like I was walking the plank. As I put one foot in front of the other, the feeling that I was walking to my death, knowing I was going to die, that we might all die, was relentless.

I looked in the rearview mirror as we pulled out of the driveway. Something about being able to see behind me and to see what's coming felt comforting. Instead of the panic and anxiety I had been experiencing for days, I was suddenly calm. I was in a place of surrender. Well, if we are going to die, it will be as a family, I thought. The idea of my kids suffering in any way was gone. We were together, and in this moment we were okay. In this moment, the future did not exist.

"Mom!" I squealed, excited as my mother swung open the door to her fifth-wheel trailer. It was a bonus to include a stop at my parents' house. Because Tahoe was a long, eight-hour drive from Vegas, it wasn't normal for us to do anything other than stop for pizza. This trip was different. My parents' trailer, currently parked along our route, made a short visit easy.

I sat listening as my mom, waving her arms with unexpected enthusiasm, talked about her upcoming birding trip. "It's a water trip! I'll be on a boat," she exclaimed, handing me a book on birds. Much like the Cheshire cat, she had a cheeky grin, her lips pulled thin and turned up at the corners. I sat, confused, holding the book. In an attempt to help me understand her excitement, she referred to the 'brain wave thing,' or as I called it the association method. "See if you can tell me which birds I will see."

Ever since our conversation regarding empaths, where she eagerly accepted the idea that much of her own life-long emotional distress came from feeling too much input from others, she had eagerly listened to everything I wanted to share about extra-sensory perception. I considered that perhaps she was more open than my father because she had been raised Baptist and converted to Catholicism only when married. Whatever it was, her excitement and support brought me more and more encouragement with each new adventure I shared.

I had only just started to figure out the association method when I briefly explained it to her. "Kids do it all the time with the word game — I say black, you say white — using a word to trigger a thought." I had read that we use beta information, basically any stimulus, to trigger beta waves in the brain. Seeing an item or hearing a word drives the beta waves like a search engine. This then finds and brings matching or supporting information to our conscious awareness. My reading gave me an idea — if I opened my brain and followed the beta signals to alpha, delta, or theta waves deeper into the brain while in a light state of meditation, I could use those waves to connect, receive, or communicate with others.

"Use it to predict the future?" I asked. Her silence, which felt like an energetic shove, had me considering the possibility. I thought, What the heck? It can't hurt. That's how life worked for me with all this new energy stuff. I let it keep moving me forward as it wandered from person to person. Without prior experience I had no preconceived notion of the need to say it wouldn't work, so why not give it a try?

"I need a paper and something to write with." I picked up the book and thumbed through it while I waited. Once the paper was in front of me, the book in my lap under my left hand and the pen in my right hand, I sat poised ready to begin. As I prepared for information, I could abruptly hear all the commotion around me that I had been blocking out. Funny how that works, how a shift in our attention brings in more than we habitually allow. I let go of my fear of being wrong as I overheard the kids and their dad making jokes to entertain the grandparents — all three, as my mother-in-law, Mary, was also along for this trip.

Closing my eyes, I started the association — water, birds, none, blocked, fat, no birds, black and white, fluffy — then nothing. I waited to see if something else would happen or become apparent. Nothing. This was unlike my other experiences. Normally, there would be a litany of words to decipher, twenty or more each time.

When I apologized to my mother, assuming it wasn't working, she responded, "That's okay, I was just excited to see."

This was just like every other attempt. The idea of it not working didn't sit well; I knew something was off. Yet, when I tried to follow the words to understand the story all I saw was blackness. "Well," I said, "maybe it doesn't work for the future. Maybe it only works for the past." We both raised our shoulders in a synchronized shrug.

We wrapped up the visit with kisses, well wishes, and much love. It was always nice to see my folks, no matter how short the visit might be.

Later, when we arrived in Tahoe, I had completely let go of the idea that death was imminent. Since the only death I had considered was from a vehicle accident, I felt a release from the panic and anxiety.

In fact, this was the smoothest trip we had ever experienced. The entire week continued free of a single hiccup. I laughed at myself a little for my drama-driven brain. How silly I am, I thought, enjoying the close time with family and friends.

On the last day of our trip, Joseph turned to me and said, "If this was your last day on Earth, what would you do?" My conscious awareness perked up a bit, recognizing again how out of character this was for him. After all the non-occurrences of anticipated death I had imagined from catching these clues, this time I let it go. Instead, I shifted my focus to the idea that maybe he was being sentimental. After all, with the kids getting older and moving on to their own things, this might be our last big family trip. "If it was my last day, hmm." I thought for a moment, and instead of thinking about my last day on Earth, I considered my last day in Tahoe. "If it were my last day, I would like to watch the sunset on Regan Beach where you proposed and where Joey took his first step." Great timing too, since we were about to pass the road that led to that spot. We pulled over for a while, all of us happy to get the chance to soak up the last bit of sun for the day.

Sitting on my blanket, I reveled in the feeling that coming here was the perfect choice. Feeling very introspective, I started a deep conversation with my kids. It reminded me of the ones I had with my dad when I was young. We talked about how important life and relationships were; what things had greater meaning than others; how people didn't purposely harm others, it was only them acting out in fear. I wondered if the kids would remember it that way, like I did with my dad. These memories, now that I was an adult, kept me close to him even though we were often a thousand miles apart.

The entire event seemed surreal to me, and in the end I shooed them all to run off the sugar from the ice cream we had earlier before getting back in the van. I took off my sunglasses and stood up to gain a better vantage of the sunset before me; I wanted to see it all; I wanted to feel it all; it felt larger than I could comprehend.

My daughter, Syndell, the youngest at the time, came over to me. She felt different, as if drawn to me. I pulled her into my arms, both of us hugging the other tightly. "Why don't you play with the kids?" I encouraged her as we broke the embrace. I wanted her to make the best use of her time. She had time with me every day. "Enjoy your cousins." They were all running around, having the fun that only kids can. "Tomorrow we leave for home. It's your last chance." My voice rose at the end in persuasion.


Excerpted from Death Awakening to Life by Christine Contini. Copyright © 2017 Winterwolf Press. Excerpted by permission of Winterwolf Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Preface / 9

Chapter One: A Matter of the Heart / 19

The Beginning / 19

The Attack / 29

Awakening / 40

Chapter Two: Awakening Further / 59

The Other Side / 59

A New Beginning / 65

Chapter Three: Insight / 73

The Lighthouse / 73

The Door / 78

Tom / 84

Chapter Four: The Weigh Station / 90

Chapter Five: Untying the Knot / 103

Chapter Six: The Teahouse / 117

Chapter Seven: The Coma / 141

Chapter Eight: Echinacea Pupurea, or the Purple Cone Flower / 163

Chapter Nine: Every Time an Angel Gets Her Wings / 174

Epilogue: The Light / 188

Final Thoughts / 191


My journey to wellness has not been easy; yet, it has provided me with

the opportunity to better understand the vast workings of my universe—

something of the nature of life and death—which inspired the desire to

communicate with those on the other side. Eventually, I moved onto

what I do now.

I have developed a concept called energetics. A step past energy work,

energetics is our ability to work on ourselves with simultaneous awareness

of our aspects—body, mind, and spirit. I teach others how to access

conscious awareness of their energetic selves: to understand how,

why, and when they move out of balance, what the motion and patterns

of energy look like and do, and ways they can personally use to return

to balance. Being in our personal balance opens doorways we wouldn’t

have considered exist.

Energetics is our ability to be in balance, simultaneously connected

and separate from one another, while moving towards the full expression

of ourselves in every moment. Th is puts us in control of every aspect

of our lives. Every interaction becomes an energetic exchange we share

with another welcome, willing participant.

You are a willing participant in this awe-inspiring awareness. As you

look at my life, realize my need to share these events is driven by your

need to understand, and the world’s desire for change.

To all those who have entered my life as willing participants, I thank

you. You have my tremendous gratitude for having pressed me to the full

expression of myself, and having pushed me to break through things that

kept me afraid of who I was. Without your constant love and support,

and your need to know me, my struggle would have defined the entirety

of my life. Your gifts have helped me rise above the beliefs that imprisoned

me, and freed me from my own fears. It’s great fun to be on this

excellent adventure together. Thank you for your willingness.


When I was four years old, my parents, who had separated

from the church, awakened to the decision that we needed

religion. We returned to the Catholic Church by attending

the Easter Service. When the priest encouraged my dad to shuffl e us kids

off to Bible study, he said, to my frustration, “No, thank you.” Discipline

was important to my father and having us sit through the service would

allow us to experience discipline while having to show respect. Th is

gave double duty to his lesson, forcing us to conform and support social


Dad had been raised in a strict Catholic family which believed that

attending mass was an important part of embodying the religion. As a

teen, he had considered becoming a priest and had gone so far as to attend

seminary, where he learned Catholic dogma in detail...

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