by Lucia Ashta
Elena didn’t know the answer to any of her questions. Her thoughts kept going back and forth in a torrent of fresh emotions. Marco was married. He had been cheating on his wife with Elena; Elena was the unwitting mistress. If this was the kind of man Marco was, one that lied and cheated on his wife, then he would probably never come back to see Elena.
How could her discernment have been so wrong? Elena screamed in anguish, frustrated with everything, with life itself. The echo of her cry rang out over the mountains where it was received without judgment.
Two dark ravens flew above her, swooping around each other as if playing in flight. Elena couldn’t make sense of anything. Her mind was all over the place; it was in direct conflict with her breaking heart. Unbidden, the words of the note floated back to convince her that her heart could not have been right.
Marco, I know you have betrayed me. I received a photo of you with your mistress. I am heartbroken as the children will be. You have left me with no option but to see you in court.
Teresa
Someone had knocked on the door of the room early that morning. By the time Elena had gotten out of bed to answer the door, no one was there, but Elena found an envelope from a private detective’s agency leaning against the door. The envelope was sealed and addressed to Marco, but Elena opened it assuming it concerned his sister. Two seconds after Elena tore open the envelope, her face and spirit plummeted.
She had read the note but once, but it was enough to sear the accusing words into her memory. Elena could recall every word, even after hours of hiking and trying to forget. Elena still didn’t feel how she thought she should. She thought she should be angry with a how-dare-you-disrespect-me-like-this attitude, but instead she felt a sense of loss, of disappointment. For the first time in her adult life, Elena had believed real love had finally arrived. She thought she had stumbled into a fairy tale and allowed herself to believe that such things really did exist.
Now, Elena let go of those unspoken promises she had thought she heard voiced in Marco’s eyes. She would accept that Marco was a husband and father to another woman’s children. A stout breeze picked up Elena’s dream of being with Marco. Her hopes swirled among the crevices of the red mountains, and the wind carried them away as the ravens cawed a farewell goodbye.
22 Sword of Awakening
Ashta continued to train with the sword in private, allowing the sword to reveal its secrets to her. Ashta worked with it, often with her eyes closed. She saw the sword not just as a tool for fighting, but as a token of power; it had the capacity to reveal its secrets to the pure of heart. Ashta and this powerful sword learned to flow together.
Ashta had great respect for the sword; it could easily take life. She knew life and death were best left to the will of Creator. Ashta did not fear her own death. She accepted it as a natural occurrence in the cycle of life. She knew that, upon her death, her essence would leave her human body and return to its angelic form.
The killing of another being was a grave responsibility and Ashta did not want to be in a situation where she must choose death for another. Nevertheless, she was committed to fully preparing herself for whatever the darkness might bring to cross her path. She knew that, if it became necessary, she could end another’s life. So it was with a solemn sense of duty that Ashta trained tirelessly with the sword. And she prayed fervently for her will to be aligned with that of Creator.
She grew to love her sword. It had beautiful etchings on it that shimmered in the light. Makalah engraved the sword himself once he had learned of its ultimate purpose. The markings were in an angel language that Ashta found familiar but could not read. Makalah told her that the inscription read, “Sword of Ashta. Sword of Awakening.”
Ashta had sewn a sheath for the sword using the most beautiful cloth she could find. The fabric was tightly woven and strong. It had been dyed a deep violet color with the plants that grew on the banks of the river. That color was very meaningful to Ashta because of its origin at the water’s edge. The river that she felt so connected to gave life to the fabric.
She wrapped the cloth around the old leather sheath Makalah had given her. She then painstakingly embroidered a pattern of flowers in bright reds and gold all around the edges of the fabric. Ashta sewed in a meditative state that expressed her appreciation for the sword. Ashta did not realize it, but it was this very act of gratitude and exchange of energy in the many hours she spent creating the flowers that gave her extra protection. That thankfulness given from the heart connected the sword to her with a stronger sense of fealty.
The very night that Ashta felt in her heart that she had finally achieved mastery with her sword, Archangel Michael visited her in her dreams. It was in this state that Ashta could see him most easily, and she relaxed any preconceived notions of how the physical world worked. In the dream state, she was able to see past her waking limitations and open herself to new realities.
In her dreams, Archangel Michael presented Ashta with another sword, a very different sword. This one was etheric. Unattuned human eyes could not see it as it came directly from the heavens. This was Ashta’s sword from the angelic world. It was as tall as she was in her angelic form, so it was several inches taller than she stood in her human body. This heavenly sword emanated a strong, blue light, very similar to the light that she and Anak emitted when they came together in the pyramids. The sword was long and sleek and it issued power and spiritual mastery.
This was not a sword that could be possessed on the physical plane of planet earth. This etheric sword also had engravings in the language of the angels on it, and again Ashta could not read them. She had not brought the knowledge to read these familiar-looking markings into this earthly incarnation.
Archangel Michael presented the sword to Ashta, knowing that she could not bring it into the physical plane. He stood before her in a glow of fiery coral-colored light—the color of sunset. His wings were fully spread out, and his feet hovered slightly above the ground. Ashta saw his amazing light, a light so bright it seemed that it should have hurt her eyes, but yet she could see the archangel clearly behind the light. Even in sleep, Ashta smiled back at Archangel Michael. She was enraptured.
As Archangel Michael handed Ashta the sword, she thanked him without words. In the angelic realm, words were unnecessary. He handed the sword to Ashta pointing down, with its hilt parallel to her shoulders, at the source of her wings. She took it from him and bowed her head.
As soon as the sword was firmly in her grasp, Ashta turned it in one quick motion so that she held it upright as she had many times before in battle. She immediately knew what she was to do, and she willed the etheric essence of her angel sword to merge with the sword that Makalah had given her. Now that Ashta had accessed her etheric sword, the sword of an angel warrior, she could call on its energy in the physical world at will.
As Archangel Michael’s presence in the state of dreams, halfway between the etheric realm and the earthly world, started to fade, he told her, “You now hold the sword of Ashta, the sword of awakening, the sword of reckoning.” And as Archangel Michael left the earth plane entirely, Ashta knew what the engravings on the sword said.
Ashta woke abruptly, resolutely in her body. She opened her eyes to look at the sword she kept next to her bedside. It glinted with a faint blue light that she suspected only she could see.
* * *
Elena walked down the mountain, trying to come up with a plan. What should she do now? She had come to Sedona after spinning a globe in a bookstore and although that might seem arbitrary to most, foolish even, Elena knew she was destined to be there. She worked at composing herself. She would not let a disappointing love affair destroy her joy—her heart. She would not let a man rob her of her faith in the wonder of life.
So what should she do? Whom did she know? The answer came to her immediately. Victor. She didn’t know anyone else in Sedona but she knew Victor, and he seemed like a good person to know in the world that was beginning to unfold for
her.
Elena ran all the way back to the room. She jumped over rocks and shrubs as she ran, feeling vital and alive. Her mind unburdened itself as she gave herself to the animal sensation of running free. She reached the room out of breath and noticed her phone on the floor. Seventeen missed calls, all from Marco. He must have found out that Elena knew about his wife. If Marco had gone to Rome to be with his wife, his sister’s supposed car accident just a pretense, then Marco must have found his wife irate with proof that he was betraying her.
Elena’s phone showed four voicemails, all from Marco since no one but he had called. From a place of empowerment, Elena wanted to delete the voicemails without listening to them, but in the end, she couldn’t. The truth was that Elena’s heart denied the evidence that she had seen with her own two eyes. Elena’s heart had felt Marco’s love. She could not bring herself to erase the messages without hearing his voice one more time.
Elena listened to each recording and then deleted it. Each of the four messages basically said the same thing. Call me. It’s urgent. I need to know that you are okay. That was it. There were no apologies or explanations other than a mention that his sister was fine. He sounded panicked to be found out.
She would do what she came to Sedona to do. She would make this a positive experience; she would make all of her life experience positive: her divorce, her misguided love for Marco, and all the other mistakes she had made. She would find what was right for her and learn the lessons from her past.
She dialed Victor. He was very busy and Elena didn’t know if he would pick up, but he did, saying he could see her. They agreed to meet in a few hours. As soon as Elena disconnected, tears overwhelmed her. She flung the phone to the floor, victim to powerful and confusing emotions. The phone’s battery popped out from the impact, but Elena left the phone where it fell. She drew a bath and got into scalding hot water.
Elena hoped the sensation of hot water on her body would help her to forget. She submerged her whole head and face in the water and left her body, journeying to places that were disconcertingly familiar yet still foreign. She gave herself over to the vision, losing all sense of her body and the passing of time.
23 Flight
It was time for a new lesson. The message had come in clearly as Ashta lay in bed stirring from the previous night’s dreams. Before Ashta even opened her eyes that morning, she heard it. There, bursting through the lazy happiness of a peaceful night’s sleep, came the message that she was to learn to fly. Ashta’s eyes darted open.
Excited and motivated, Ashta flung herself out of bed. She dropped a bright violet tunic over her head, swept her long hair from her face, and pinned it up so that it did not touch her neck. Though the day was young, it already felt hot. She splashed water on her face from the bowl she had brought in the night before. As she returned the bowl to the table next to her bed, her eyes flickered over the few treasures she kept in this world.
On the small, unadorned table sat a mother of pearl comb that had belonged to her mother. The white and golden swirl of the comb stood out against the dark wood grain. A small, wooden statue of the goddess mother sat next to the comb. It was a gift made for her by her father. Next to the figurine was a single flower.
The flower had once been a bright and vibrant red, but it had faded as it withered and dried. Ashta’s youngest sister had given her the flower on Ashta’s seventh birthday, the day their parents brought Ashta to the Temple of Laresu’u Kal. Her sister had been just a baby then, barely able to totter around, but she had stumbled over to a flowering bush and picked a flower for Ashta. The flower was bruised from being held tightly in a little hand, and Ashta treasured it.
Ashta missed her three older brothers and two younger sisters. Among them, she had felt a sense of companionship and freedom from responsibility. Their parents had let them run untamed, and she had fond memories of the times they had spent playing together. Now she had spent more time away from them than with them. Her parents brought her to the temple over fifteen years ago. A single tear slid down her cheek as she noticed that all of her treasures were from her home. There were times when she still missed home greatly, though having Anak with her was a great comfort.
But not all of her treasures were from her home. The ruby red jewel she had been given at the underwater pyramid rested between her breasts, fastened to a leather cord, just as it had been since the day she received it. It was a welcome reminder of the importance of what she was doing. It reminded her that she lived in a world of real enchantment. Yes, she missed home, but she lived in a world she had only imagined before. Her experiences were like those from the tales her parents had told her as a child. Lighthearted once more, she ran out the door.
Ashta stood in a sea of sand. She could glimpse the pyramids far away on the horizon, but little else. It was just her and endless sand. A snake moved in front of her leaving an undulating pattern in a trail behind it. Snakes were powerful in the practices of magic and wizardry. They brought the message that transformation and new beginnings were at hand. Ashta thanked the snake for its presence.
Alone out in the expanse, Ashta felt the infinity of time and space. She felt the endless granules of sand slide under her toes. She stood at peace under a bright sun that was not yet overhead. Then, the angels came to Ashta and spoke to her of their knowing. They rode in on that infinity of space and whispered softly, “It is time to fly.” Ashta waited, expecting more direction, but received none. She was bewildered, as she had never seen another human being take flight.
When Ashta realized that no more guidance would come, she decided that she would just try to fly. She pushed away any thoughts of disbelief that she knew would cause failure and willed herself to fly. She knew in her heart that she could. She had flown as an angel, and her human body was ultimately an illusion.
Ashta shut her eyes and believed with every part of her being that she could fly. Then she tried, but nothing happened. She tried again. Still, nothing happened. Just in the moment that she decided to stop trying and simply allowed herself to be who she was truly meant to be, all doubt left her. A force propelled her, and she took off in flight.
She shot straight up into the sky as if it were the most natural thing in the world. After all, it was natural to her being; she had flown since she first existed as an angel. Her human mind registered it as bizarre that learning to fly was the easiest skill she had acquired so far, something that most people viewed as an impossible feat. But, the impossible was achievable!
Ashta flew as if she were part of the air, just as she had been one with the water. Perhaps that was it; that was the lesson. All she had to do was learn to be one with the element, whether it be air, water, fire, or earth. She focused on the immensity of what she was doing. She was flying! She could do anything! A perfect child of Creator could do anything. Any perceived limitations were strictly that—just a perception.
Beliefs were what limited possibilities. Because the human carried the essence of Creator within, she could do anything that she believed in full faith. Human beings were as free as their convictions.
Ashta immersed herself in the sensations of flying. A swift breeze caressed her skin. The ground whirled by in a blur beneath her. Her body was light as it glided effortlessly. She felt the magic; it tingled within her and all around her.
There was no confusion. There was only the freeing sensation of being one with Creator, a perfect balance between the Divine and the divine creation. Ashta was the divine creation, perfectly designed. She flew. She twisted. She flipped. She did it all with ease and grace. All were fluid motions.
Finally, she returned to the ground. As her feet first touched land, it felt strange; she had been so free of the pull of the earth. She began to walk until the motion of placing one foot in front of the other felt just as comfortable to her as flying. She eased back into the earthly world. She began her long walk back toward the temple, her mind free of cluttering thoughts. She was elated!
* * *
/> When Elena finally came back from the vision, she found herself in frigid water. Goose bumps covered her body. Despite that, she felt invigorated. She had just seen the woman in her visions fly, and Elena had felt that power. It was gradually becoming easier for her to accept that she was experiencing herself in another lifetime. In this other life, she could do unfathomable things.
Elena turned on the hot water. As she waited for her body temperature to normalize, she remembered her appointment with Victor. She ran out to the bedroom and saw in the red digital numbers of the bedside clock that she had to leave right away. She pulled clothes out of her suitcase in a mad rush, leaving the remainder strewn about to either side of the open luggage. She had found something that suited her mood, a teal dress. She slipped it over her head, added her favorite yellow feather earrings, and pulled her long hair up into a ponytail as she ran out the door.
Two seconds later, she came back. She’d left without sandals and without car keys. She found both and scrambled out the door, forgetting to lock the door as she pulled it shut. It bounced open against the frame and stood ajar an inch. Elena didn’t even notice her carelessness as she backed out in Marco’s rental car and pulled away. Her phone lay forgotten on the floor, the battery still dislodged, all calls going straight to voicemail.
24 An Expansive Universe
At twenty-two, the twins were not aging like the others around them. Although they no longer looked like children, their faces were unlined, unmarked, and shone with great vitality. Their bodies possessed youthful limberness and energy. Their angelic essence affected their looks and illuminated their bodies, slowing the ageing process.
They lay, sprawled, soaking up the sun. Anak woke Ashta with a gentle kiss to the forehead. His lips were smooth; they felt soft against her skin. Ashta had fallen asleep next to the river in the shade of a great, ancient tree. The flowing sound of the water had lulled her and sleep came easily. Anak lay next to Ashta and she rolled into him lazily, unwilling to wake right away. He wrapped his arms around her as she nestled into him, and he kissed her on the mouth.