by Tessa Lynne
Zachary says a guardian is often, but not always, a spirit who has had some prior connection with our spirit. He adds that the process is referred to as a guardian being “bound” to their “charge.” Our time is up.
It is late when I leave the office. I change to the hiking shoes I keep in the car and drive straight to the island. It is cloudy, no moon to light my way, so this will be a short walk.
I consider my beliefs. Yesterday, if asked to list them, I might not have included all that Zachary just told me. However, if handed his list, I would have agreed that each item has a place in my own informal belief system.
I look back to my mid-twenties, when I questioned whether this life is all there is. My rational mind pointed to the lack of proof of an afterlife. I did not experience a dark night of the soul, did not abandon my beliefs so much as hold them in one hand as I considered their antithesis in the other. I was reading a lot of philosophy then, including Pascal’s wager: you have everything to win if you believe and nothing to lose if, at death, you are proved wrong. I couldn’t take that position. I wanted to find my own way to a definitive acceptance.
Throughout my life, I had been aware of an energy that transcended my physical self. I knew it did not arise out of my mind; its presence was simply made known to me. I made an effort to be more aware of it and after several months I knew with certainty—that presence would continue after I took my last breath.
My conscious awareness of my spirit, and of being in relationship with her, is often obvious when I work with clients. Sometimes it is something more. When I first met one of Sally’s alters, relegated to a deprived life on what they called “the other side,” she didn’t believe herself worthy to speak to me. When I tentatively reached out to touch her hand, she recoiled in horror. She silently indicated her forearms and hands and was finally able to say, in a hoarse whisper, “Can’t you see it? Can’t you smell it? I am covered in excrement.”
She spoke her truth, and she couldn’t understand why I didn’t see and smell the filth as she did. I went to the waiting room and returned with paper towels and a container of water, then gently washed her hands and arms. It is the moment in my life in which I have been most definitely and undeniably touched by grace. A soft, beneficent version of a bolt of lightning entered into me and radiated from my heart to every cell of my body. I felt blessed, and I felt humbled—and envy for those in a position to routinely offer such assistance to others.
It is growing dark and I turn back. As my reflections turn to a walking meditation, I am aware of a distinct presence that I recognize as a spiritual energy, stronger than any I have felt before. I realize it is Zachary—walking with me. It is a knowledge that, like his presence, is suddenly there, fully formed, existing outside of thought.
Are You Content?
9/28
Just a minute or two with Zachary, and I am quick to ask if he was present with me a few nights ago on the trail. He confirms it and gives me an explanation.
“You are now in a period of greater awareness, due partly to your own efforts and partly to your having been approached.”
He says he must go, but he wants to leave me with a question.
“Tessa, we do not have time to discuss it today, but my question is this: would you say that you are content with your life?”
Zachary’s question echoes one I have been asking myself in recent weeks, as I look back on my life in light of what I have learned. This evening, an almost full moon rising, I walk on the island and sit in further reflection at the shelter on the bank of the river. It is cooler; night is settling more decisively. Summer has packed its bags and is deciding whether to linger yet awhile.
Synergy—the whole being greater than the sum of its parts—a concept I use in my work with organizations. Now I see its application to my life. Situations or events I have viewed as negative or insignificant assume, in retrospect, an importance roughly equivalent to the highlights. Together they form a synergistic whole, interwoven as the fabric of my life.
In a high-school writing assignment, an autobiography, I described my childhood as idyllic. The teacher gave me a grade of A, but he noted my use of hyperbole. I admit that I put on rose-colored glasses. For one thing, I said nothing of my persistent feeling of loneliness that was more piercing as a teen. A middle child among five brothers, and with no near neighbors, I was often excluded by circumstances. Attending a one-room country school for five years, the only one in my grade, continued a pattern of being more observer than participant.
I found companionship in nature, feeling the pull of the rolling hills merging with wetlands, compelling and sustaining me. I wandered when I could, on foot or on horseback, feeling a combined sense of freedom and connection. Though I lacked self-confidence and was painfully shy, I felt an inherent sense of self-worth, instilled during my solitary pursuits—it seemed by the process of osmosis—the influence of my spirit.
At age thirteen, I felt a growing spiritual awareness. In school, it was in a familiar sense of connection and discovery when I was drawn to books on world religions and easily accepted that there is more than one path. In church, it was in the loss of ritual and meaning when the service was changed and elements that had been, for me, a meditation, gave way to ones that did not engage my spirit. At home, I had a pre-cognition, a dream in which I saw details of several unusual events of the following day. I became more open to and curious about the nonrational and the mystical.
I look back on my adult life with a general sense of contentment, with a few exceptions: my marriage was not a true partnership, I could not give my children the home life I had wished for them, and my health issues have changed the rhythms of every day of my life. On the plus side have been a variety of challenging and fulfilling career experiences. I have had the pleasure of working with small and large groups in the areas of management and personal growth. My work with clients is equally rewarding, using a different level of energy that is quieter but often intense. I know I have made a difference in the lives of others. For some it is an almost immediate change that is life altering. For others it is assisting with the unfolding of a series of self-discoveries. I have come to realize that I am as much the beneficiary of our contacts as are my clients.
Callie and Kenna have been the great joys of my life. I can’t imagine it without them. In childhood, they were absolute delights and I was privileged to watch them delight in each other, a unit of two. Then I watched them grow into distinct individuals as their personalities surpassed their oneness. In the midst of their teenage angst, we remain essentially close, a small family unit, enhanced now by knowledge of our destinies.
For the last fifteen years, I have lived near the Missouri river. Beyond the river breaks, the prairie extends for two hundred miles. I respond to the expansiveness and treasure the landscape that some call bleak. Then mountains rise up as counterpoint and offer a frequent change of scenery and climate. I am fortunate to be able to immerse myself in nature on almost a daily basis.
I anticipate a future of better health, giving me the energy to pursue neglected aspects of my life. Two years from now, at age forty-five, my daughters in college, I expect to be more physically active, expand my professional networking and social life, and be open to a serious relationship.
My answer to Zachary will be: “Yes, I am content with my life, but I am not resting in that contentment.”
I have been gazing at the reflection of the moon across the rippled surface of the silvery-blue water, a path of light as I reflect on the course of my life. I take another few minutes in a gazing meditation and then, unaware of the chill until now, I need to walk fast to warm up. When I slow down, it occurs to me: was there a correct answer? can we be too content? or for too long? does being content deprive us of the desire to change and grow? I think the answer is in the quality of our contentment. It can be static or it can be dynamic and flowing. I see an image of a stream cut off from its source—stagnating, dying a slow death. I compare it to
one that is connected to its source—alive and changing, contained within purpose.
7. This Earth of Yours
THE ENTITY BEFORE ME TODAY is obviously not Zachary but a more feminine presence—softer features, a lightness in the body. She maintains eye contact with a look that is as much an assessment of me as it is a greeting. Her first words confirm my assumption.
“Hello, Child. I am Amelia. Zachary has left to meet with the Council. They summoned him abruptly, so there was no opportunity for him to introduce us.”
I say hello and look at her expectantly.
“It has been a long while since my last physical life, but I am often a guardian and have thus maintained a strong connection to this world. For most of this century, I was guardian to a woman well-known in this country. My charge recently returned to the spirit world, and now I have been assigned to assist Zachary.”
I can’t restrain my impulse to ask her the identity of the famous woman. I find it fascinating, yet disconcerting, to learn who it was. I am reminded of those who claim to remember past lives as Cleopatra, Napoleon, or someone of equal renown, and I have a fleeting moment of doubt as I consider the implications.
More differences between Amelia and Zachary have become apparent. Her voice is quieter, well-modulated, and she sometimes smiles; her speech is more natural and reflects emotional content. I share my thoughts with her.
“Zachary’s recent contacts with this world have been less frequent than mine and of a different quality. It was necessary for me to be quite close to my last charge. Her public life demanded more, at times, than she was equipped to handle.”
We move on to a review of Sally’s current needs and those of each alter. Then Amelia appears to receive a signal.
“I must leave you now, but I am looking forward to continuing our discussion.”
I walk on the island at twilight. The mild evening is an echo of summer, with an occasional slice of autumnal contrast as a cold current cuts through the warm air. I recall the atavistic pleasure I have found here foraging for asparagus and morel mushrooms, imagining a distant hunter/gatherer existence. Have I had past lives in a similar setting? Is it the memories of my spirit that prompt my sense of repeating a timeless endeavor?
I sit on a bench at the edge of the meadow and look up at the cottonwood trees, thinking how very tall these are; their leaves are a golden yellow that will soon light my path in the moonlight. As I merge with the night, I am aware of a strong energy surrounding me. I feel as much a part of the past as of the present and a strong connection to my spirit—and to the presence that is here with us. It is not the same energy I recognized last week. It is Amelia.
This Earth of Yours
10/5
My second meeting with Amelia. I start to tell her of my walk, to explain the presence I felt a few nights ago, but she interrupts me with an enigmatic smile.
“Yes, those trees are very tall.”
I had not yet mentioned the trees. Before I can say more, she firmly changes the subject, intent on her purpose for being here.
“Let us continue with your education.”
Amelia expands on a topic Zachary has covered—the impact of human actions on the environment. I hear in her somber tone a reflection of the gravity of the subject.
“Mankind has done a great disservice to this earth. There are three broad categories: the toxicity and large quantities of chemicals being released into the ground and atmosphere, the proliferation of products detrimental to living beings, and the sheer bulk of waste products of one kind or another.”
I nod in agreement, aware of and concerned about these issues.
“It is known in the spirit world that disastrous effects will ensue from what has been done. It is still possible for some reversal of cur-rent trends, but self-interest and goals focused on profit making are preventing sufficient action.”
Was the current state of affairs destined for this planet?
“It is part of the Creator’s plan that all worlds will continue to evolve and change over time, in accordance with the actions of their inhabitants. The Creator provided each population with the information and tools necessary to turn the world given them to their benefit, but these were not intended to be put to use in a destructive manner.”
As Amelia continues, I hear a change in her tone, to one of subtle chastisement with an underlay of sadness.
“Humans do not realize how fortunate they are that their physical existence is here, on this earth of yours. It is perhaps the most beautiful of all universes. It was not made for humans in particular, but it evolved in such a way that great beauty resulted from the forces set in motion by the Creator. Other universes have tended to be less beautiful and some of them are rather desolate, though not purposely so.”
A deep sadness comes over me and I blink away a tear. I think of my frustration with those who speak of us having been given the beauty of this country as if we were specially chosen, somehow deserve it. I feel a collective guilt and shame for what we have done to destroy it. Amelia’s expression indicates she is aware of my reaction, and then she speaks with certain knowledge of the future.
“If this world knew what it was facing in the years ahead, you would change your focus now—from military spending to using those resources to promote peace. The time will come when you will have to operate as one body in order to feed the population. You will be forced to shift from war efforts to a survival mode of life. The more affluent nations will have to accept the contributions of developing ones and integrate your efforts with theirs. You will come to recognize the inadequacy of the attention now given to the guidance of the spirit world.”
Amelia’s words are stronger than Zachary’s, and I feel their greater weight. She counters them with a series of statements that brighten our outlook.
“Some who were approached earlier have made connections with world leaders, with positive results. There will continue to be growth in many fields of endeavor. The answers to many problems will come from the oceans, including cures for several diseases; one ocean species holds the answer to regenerating tissue. As the future reveals itself, there will be many opportunities for spiritual growth, including the capacity to love others, on a broad scale, and a greater intent to protect Mother Earth.
Amelia has paused, but while I am considering my next question, she speaks first.
“And now Child, I must go.”
I leave my office in a quiet mood. Why do Amelia’s claims about the future resonate more intensely than Zachary’s did? Is it that she has recently had a closer association with this world? Is it because she has more explicitly implicated us in creating the conditions that will lead to our destruction? I think it is both, and I think she intentionally chose stronger words to convey her message of grave consequences.
Should I tell others now? I am not in a position to have a major impact. Am I to inform a select few? How do I convey what I have learned? I have been given no guidelines.
The girls are home. How much do I tell them? I do not want them to be weighed down by the prospect of what is to come. The need for an immediate decision is lifted from me by the routines of our daily lives. I am soon caught up in listening to the events of their day, preparing a meal, and making a grocery list so I can do the modern, detached from nature, version of hunting and gathering. Throughout the evening, the theme song from a recent television series recurs in my head—Life Goes On.
The Role of Your Spirit
10/9
Amelia begins today by asking if I have any questions. I recall Zachary’s mention of a spirit’s personality and ask her if theirs mesh with ours.
“It is reflected in the human to the extent the human allows it to be—a spirit does not impose its personality on the mortal life. They will try to impact the life, but they hesitate to influence too much as they are not aware of the future events tied to each choice.”
Are all human personality traits represented in the spirit world?
“In general, spirits (especially younger ones) have the same assortment of traits as do humans. The same is true of emotions, but in the spirit world you will not find anger, hatred, or jealousy—which is not to say there are no rivalries, for there is a certain amount of competition. Also, there is no deceit, for honesty is inherent to our lives. There is one exception: when spirits first return to our world, still caught up in human tendencies, these negative emotions can prevail.”
Human personality traits remain fairly consistent over time. I ask if a spirit is aware beforehand of what those traits will be.
“A spirit, especially one who is more mature, will be aware of what traits the genetic history might produce and of the general circumstances of childhood that will influence certain traits. Ideally, the spirit will work with and shape those traits to meet their needs.”
I ask question after question of Amelia, wanting to understand more fully our spirit’s relationship to us and to our daily lives. Her answers form a list, some items new and some reinforcing what Zachary has told me.
The Role of Your Spirit
A spirit decides which lessons to pursue, makes a careful study of several available lifetimes, and then selects the one most likely to assist in learning those lessons.
Your spirit will attempt to influence you, to lead you to necessary or desired outcomes, and is often the instigator of your routine decisions and actions.
With a few exceptions, a spirit is always attempting to influence the human life in ways that will help to fulfill their purpose. With more experience they are better able to recognize opportunities that will fulfill their intended lessons.