The Invisible Choir

by Tessa Lynne

  Putting aside curiosity about my own status, I listen to Zachary.

  “A spirit gains in status primarily through the successful learning of lessons. Upon physical death, and return to the spirit world, the intended lessons are compared to what was learned. Upon completion of the full review, any increase in status is awarded.”

  What happens if an intended lesson does not present itself?

  “Attempts are made to substitute others; the Creator does not intend for any lifetime to be wasted. In recent decades, though, many spirits have returned disappointed. The pace of modern life, and its emphasis on the material, has made it difficult for them to accomplish their planned lessons. With so many options for superficial success and enjoyment, they can easily lose sight of their spiritual journey.”

  What distinguishes one status from another?

  “There are seven levels of status before the Master level. Those at the first two levels are considered junior spirits; five more levels reflect increases in knowledge and ability. Each level requires proficiency in a number of competencies.”

  Do all spirits make progress at the same rate?

  “No. Most spirits do not proceed on a steady climb up the ladder; status can be lost as well as gained. It is usually not a great amount, but it is possible to lose all status and have to start over. Failure to learn a planned lesson does not, in itself, lead to a loss of status.”

  As Zachary talks, I mentally compare the gaining of status in the spirit world to how we are promoted in school, the next level not reached without passing grades. The standards in the spirit world are high, at times requiring the equivalent of going back to first grade; it is not a pass/fail course.

  It occurs to me that I tend to think of spirits as being fairly uni-form in their nature and abilities. I ask why learning is more difficult for some.

  “It varies. A spirit might be less than diligent in their guidance of a human life due to their inexperience, to not paying attention, or to a lack of skill. One spirit might fail to make a wise choice in selecting a lifetime, another may not be strongly motivated to achieve a higher status, and yet another may not realize how or when to exert influence.”

  Zachary pauses, then tells me there is just enough time left to explain what he had meant, five years ago, when he said it was essential that Sally’s memories be returned to her.

  “If Sally were to complete her life without integration, her spirit would lose all status; the fragmentation of her mind would prevent any of the necessary learning. Because her spirit is of quite high status, it would be a great loss to the spirit world if she were to have to start over. As her guardian, I knew it was imperative that she seek help and achieve integration.”

  Our time is up.

  I have an hour before an evening client is due. I visit with a colleague as she is leaving for the day and wonder if I should confide in her. What would she think if I told her I was just talking to a spirit? Could she understand? Could I convey to her the basis of my belief? This is not the time.

  I cross the street to the river, walk a short distance to a bench, and consider Zachary’s last comment. I have wondered why, years ago, he used the word “essential” when he said Sally’s memories had to be returned. It was a clue to his identity, and I did pick up on it. I asked myself how, if he was a part of her, he could make such a strong statement, with all the authority of an expert consultant. I did not take that thought to its logical conclusion—he is not a part of her.

  I am not surprised that my health issues were a known lesson. They have been an immense challenge, one I first failed as I wal-lowed in self-pity, envied active friends, compensated with food and gained fifty pounds. I flash back three years: I get up from a week in bed with the flu and find that my life has changed. Walking is as easy as moving through quicksand; my body pushes against an unrelenting force. My right leg drags, I frequently fall down, and I can’t hold a ten-pound baby. I don’t have the muscle control to skip a small stone across the water. My dreams are filled with detailed scenes of my daughters in danger. I struggle to reach them but I can’t move. My doctors have no answers.

  By the end of the first year, I could often walk for twenty minutes. I took control of my own recovery: cut out processed foods, lifted weights when able, lost thirty pounds and then ten more. I returned to meditation, abandoned when I had needed it most, and added healing practices. My progress has been uneven—for every few steps forward, I take one back—but I no longer let myself be defeated by a bad day. I have learned, each to some extent, lessons in acceptance, determination, perseverance, and hope. To reflect on it now calls back feelings of helplessness and despair. I need to shake them off.

  I have time for a brisk walk along the river, ten minutes one way, enough to clear my head and to feel my strength. I slow down on the walk back, crouch at the water’s edge, and search out a small, flat stone. I hold it firmly horizontal between my thumb and middle finger. Then, in a precise move perfected as a child, I swing my arm back just above the surface and, with intention and purpose, release the stone. It skips … then once more … and then a third and final skip before gently sinking beneath the still water. I am ready for my client.

  Masters

  9/14

  I see Sally in the waiting room and wonder if, when Zachary comes, he will appear to be in drag. Sally has plans for a night out with friends and is dressed in a flowing pants and tunic outfit, wearing heels. She has makeup on—eyeshadow, mascara, deep red lipstick—and contact lenses. Her long, auburn hair falls in gentle waves to her shoulders. This is the first I have seen her dressed to go out. When I compliment her, she says, “I feel like my old self again. I am ready to reclaim my life.”

  By the time Zachary appears, I have grown used to Sally’s look, and it is only slightly disconcerting as he returns to the subject of status. I have come to recognize a deliberate pattern: he gives me a minimum of information and then expects me to question him.

  “The number of lifetimes needed to reach the status of Master is not a set amount.”

  I ask him for examples of how and why it might vary.

  “Some spirits are quicker to learn, just as some people are, and some are more ambitious and focused on a quick rise in status. Some spirits feel at home in the physical world, return often, and thrive here; others are reluctant to return and do so less frequently.”

  What is required to achieve the Master level?

  “It is attained when a spirit has learned all of the lessons of this world. At that point, they are no longer required to return to a physical lifetime.”

  Thoughts of my own status and lifetimes intrude. I can’t ignore them. I ask Zachary if he can tell me how many lifetimes my spirit has completed. He doesn’t answer me immediately but pauses, his eyes closed.

  “The total is eighty-seven, including this one.”

  I don’t know what to make of that number and ask him what more he can tell me.

  “Your spirit is close to the end of her physical lifetimes. The exact number will depend on the outcomes of those yet to come.”

  I put my personal thoughts aside. Zachary said a Master is not required to take another physical life, but I assume it is possible.

  “Yes, they do return. At any one time, there will be many Masters among you. They take a physical lifetime for a specific purpose: to impart wisdom to a group, to provide guidance at a turning point in history, or to bring a message from the Creator. Many well-known figures, throughout the course of your world history, have been returning Masters.”

  I have to ask Zachary to name names: who would I recognize as a returning Master?

  “First, I must mention the next level, that of Sages, the highest level of status. Masters and Sages you would recognize include the great religious teachers Jesus, Mohammed, and Buddha; great philosophers, including Confucius and several from early Greece; artists, including Michelangelo; great scientific thinkers, including Einstein; and many others from all walks of life.”<
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  It comes as no surprise to me that our greatest spiritual teachers have been Masters or Sages. I think of the Renaissance, that rebirth following the Dark Ages, and assume that a number of Masters, besides Michelangelo, returned at that time. Did their number include Da Vinci, Mozart, Shakespeare, and Galileo? I wonder: who are the Masters among us now?

  I think of the many lifetimes needed to rise to the level of Master and remind myself that progress in the spirit world takes place with-in the context of eternity. Time, as we know it, does not exist. I have read variations on a description of eternity similar to this: imagine a granite mountain, impervious to the elements; then imagine that a bird flies by once every one hundred years, brushing the tip of a feather against the rock; and now imagine the time it would take for the mountain to be thus worn away. That length of time is the beginning of eternity—there is no end.

  Parallel Spirits

  Zachary firmly suggests that we move on, to the topic of parallel spirits—those who often take a physical life within the same time-frame and geographic area. I still my wandering mind and listen.

  “You and Sally are such parallel spirits. Among your shared lives are those as siblings, as student and teacher, and as a tribal leader and his shaman among an island people in the Pacific. Sally’s spirit has most often sought leadership roles in physical lifetimes; the role of shaman fits with the preferences of your spirit.”

  Several months ago, Sally told me of a dream in which she and I were brother and sister, playing outdoors and wearing rough-hewn snowshoes. I did not dismiss her interpretation, or immediately accept it, but I did consider the possibility that she was right. My only confirmation is a childhood fascination with snowshoes and that I retain a clear image of a storybook illustration of a Native American boy using them.

  Zachary now tells me it was a lifetime in the early 1700’s, near the Northern Great Lakes with the Blackfeet, and we did use snow-shoes. I once worked with a man who had grown up on a reservation. On one of our road trips, always good for deeper conversations, he turned to me and said, “Are you sure you’re not Native?” He was referring, not to my looks, but to my nature and my view of the world. Now Zachary tells me more about our parallel lives.

  “It was determined more than twenty years ago, before you entered college, that you would be the one to someday help Sally. It was known that your prior spiritual connection would assist in the process, and perhaps be essential, given the extent of her needs.”

  I have a vivid memory of the first time I held my high school psychology book. It was small for a textbook, a rich deep red, the simple title, Psychology, embossed in gold. I can still almost hear what seemed to be an alert signal as I looked at it, but when I started college the next year I was intent on a major in foreign languages. Zachary now confirms that I was guided to switch my major to psychology and later in my choice of graduate study.

  “A great deal of influence was used to help your spirit guide you to your destined career.”

  I am not surprised. When asked why I chose this field, I have always replied that it was not a considered choice, that I was somehow led to it. I think back to Sally’s first appointment, made for her by a friend who Sally insisted come with her to my office. Her friend mentioned that, when she called the mental health center and was given the names of three therapists, a strong feeling came over her to select me. Now Zachary tells me that she was guided to make that choice.

  When we did a detailed history, Sally told me how she came to live here ten years ago. She and her husband had been building a house in a small community near her parents, five hours from here. They considered it an excellent place to raise their preschool children and planned to stay at least fifteen years. Their house was half finished when her husband got a letter from his company offering him a management position here. He had not sought promotion, there were several qualified people in line ahead of him, and the position had not been advertised. Sally said they had never understood why that offer came so unexpectedly. I ask Zachary if that move had been arranged.

  “Yes, it was. Circumstances sometimes are orchestrated, but only when strictly necessary. It might be to direct a life away from an unproductive path, toward an imperative lesson, or to obtain needed assistance. A person may even be deliberately led down an unsavory path for the lessons to be found there. Do not conclude that your entire life is orchestrated, but most lives will contain one such life-altering event and some may have several.”

  His words prompt another memory. When I moved here, eighteen years ago, there were no openings in my field, so I found related work with a large organization. Eight years later, I was managing a program, enjoying my work, expanding the services, and raising revenues. Then, without warning, I was told that management of the program would be transferred up a level. Shocked, unwilling to accept it, I called the mental health center, found they had an opening, and started there three weeks later. I ask Zachary about it.

  “It was important to arrange something dramatic to get you to change direction, not solely for Sally’s sake but for that of other clients and to fulfill your career destiny. Your employer was urged to restructure that office and the director of the mental health agency was convinced to open a new position.”

  I now see the sudden changes made in my previous job from a new perspective. It had bothered me for some time that work I loved, and a program I had helped develop and grow, was arbitrarily taken from me.

  Our time is almost up. I ask Zachary if, when taking a lifetime, a spirit knows which parallel spirits will be near.

  “It is sometimes known but as often it is not, and it is not always predestined that your paths will cross. For instance, you and Sally were not expected to interact in this lifetime. When her need became apparent, as a young teen, a search was made for a parallel spirit destined to pursue your line of work.”

  I say it sounds as if a large group of parallel spirits is like money in the bank, there to be drawn upon if needed. Zachary says that is an apt comparison, and then he says goodbye.

  I walk on the island in the late afternoon. Before long, I fall into a meandering stream of consciousness, my mind full of thoughts about lessons, status, and the many lifetimes of my spirit.

  Where does this lifetime of mine fit? It is not, I think, either the most exciting of them or the most difficult, and it is not one of high status or financial gain, apparently was never meant to be. It has been a rich mixture of challenges and intrinsic rewards.

  Lessons are associated with making choices, with being free to act. How might I determine the lessons meant for this lifetime? A first step would to be to consider those times when I have been faced with a choice, when my life could have taken one direction or another based on my decision—but how do I know if I made the right choice?

  Were there more lessons in my marriage or in my divorce? I felt more strongly guided to the latter. Years ago, making plans for my wedding, I realized I was not a starry-eyed bride, but I did not stop to reconsider. The marriage brought lessons of love and loss, of finding my own voice, knowing that I had to leave, and acting on my decision. Were any of these what I was meant to learn?

  An ordinary day is filled with choices: to offer a helping hand, or not; to be open or closed to the opinions of others; to overlook or confront what offends or upsets us; to see those who differ from us as other or to see our common origin; to act on our impulses, or not. Could these be as important as our major life decisions?

  Some lessons are about self-discovery. Was it Socrates who said, “To thine own self be true”? No, that was Shakespeare, I think in Hamlet, which I fell asleep to at the Guthrie. Socrates said, “Know thyself,” and “An unexamined life is not worth living.” I have been reading a lot of Emerson lately. He would reflect on a routine set of questions at the end of each day. I am less structured and consistent in my approach.

  How do I apply self-knowledge to my life? Are my choices in line with my purpose in life? What is my purpose?
If that question can be answered with a simple statement, I would say it is to align myself with spirit, to enter into a relationship in which I make choices arising out of that alignment.

  My awareness of my spirit is, in part, a retrospective one. In the last ten years I have recognized certain energies and messages that I have had some awareness of since childhood. They have had a consistency of feeling and a sense of immediacy that I have acted upon—they are the markers of my life path. But how many times have I not listened or not acted?

  My walk almost over, my final thoughts are of how it is one thing to meditate, reflect, develop self-awareness, and renew intentions. It is another matter to act on our insights when we return to the daily routines and rhythms of our life.

  5. Catastrophe

  ZACHARY ONCE REFERRED TO VITAL information he would share with me. He reminds me of that now.

  “I want to more fully explain why you, and others, have been approached at this time in history. It is known that a catastrophe will occur in this country in the not-too-distant future. I have not been told the exact details. What I do know is that this catastrophe will be the first in a series of events that will cause disruption, upheaval, and a period of unrest in the world for many years afterward.”

  Struck by the gravity of his tone, and the implications of what he has said, I ask if he can tell me more.

  “I will tell you what I can. Some of these events will be political, conflicts between countries and cultures, and some will be physical, natural disasters. The cumulative effects in the decades following the initial catastrophe will lead many to question the meaning of life and the continued existence of this world.”

  This is a sudden turn in what I have thought to be my education in what is, the nature of the spirit world. Now a disturbing picture emerges of what will be, in this physical world. Zachary notes my reaction and calmly continues, with emphasis.