The Invisible Choir

by Tessa Lynne

  I remember vividly the night we were most aware of the presence of our spirits as they led us to another plane and directed our lovemaking. We were mystified at the extent of our response, at the realism of our experience. I long for a physical reenactment of that night—could we have matched it if we had met? I think we could have, Alexander and Mahalia our guides.

  Michael, it feels entirely natural to speak to you this way, your presence so obvious at my side, no third party involved. We shared what amounts to a single moment out of all our lifetimes together. Will this one be the highlight? I smile to think it might be, considering we had no physical contact.

  A final farewell must touch on the lives of our children. One of my fondest memories of Vince is of him walking into your room saying, “Bonsoir, Papa.” I could see him clearly, could hear him in that moment. You said it would not have taken long for our girls to call you Dad, and they would have warmed to you immediately. I started to watch a movie last week, could not continue when I saw the main characters, a woman my age with a son like Vince. I miss him. I am in danger of turning this to tears.

  Our experience of the Light—its warmth surrounded us, brought us comfort, strength, and its blessing. The light sent to me by Alexander, that star come to earth, was a message of hope and reassurance. These were experiences of a lifetime. My reaching out to you, our seismic connections and lingering aftershocks, was another. I heard Mahalia’s voice, and I knew the presence of Eli, Amelia, and Zachary.

  Michael, for all that I have railed at our circumstances, questioned if I could possibly be wrong, I have not once denied the fact of your existence. It would be a denial of my very self, of all that has made me who I am, of every moment that has contributed to how I sense the world about me, relate to others, arrive at my opinions and beliefs.

  There are moments in which your truth, and the larger truth in which our love exists, coincide in a confirming synergy. Those singular moments when I meet the sweet innocence of a child, hear music that deeply stirs my soul, observe a client make a life changing self-discovery, when I am struck by the beauty of the world, of life itself.

  Were you with me last week when I saw a documentary on the severe drought in Africa, as I watched the faces of the children and their parents? I saw their humanity starkly revealed and felt a connection that crossed the barriers of time and distance. I was aware of Mahalia feeling it with me and informing me—we are all one. In every such moment, I am aware of something greater than myself that enters into me and joins my spirit; it humbles me and connects me to the eternal universe. In every such moment, I am reminded of our love—it is of the same essence.

  Michael mine, our brief sojourn here is almost at an end. I will think of you as sometimes out there in the mountain mist. I will see this deep lake as a reflection of the depth of our love. I will hear the waterfalls, the mingling of their voices an echo of our invisible choir. I will remember that mossy clearing under the pines, the last rays of the sun illuminating the wild flowers, and know that there we would have wed. I will remember the promise of our love and the promise of all that is yet to come for us. Together, we learned love’s fullest meaning—we will take that knowledge to our next lifetimes. Our spirits will, for all eternity, be enriched by what we have entered into with them.

  I am the only one here now in the dark, making my way to the giant boulder near the center of the lake. Are you holding my hand as I walk along the narrow ridge above the water? I will sit here with you and savor these last minutes…

  Michael, do you hear the hooting of the owls? Do you see that the lake is a mirror, the slivers of reflected light, the dark shadows of the pines? The soft blanket of your presence envelops me in the stillness…that brightest star is a message for us…it is so quiet…we could be back in an earlier lifetime, alone in the forest, entranced by the mysteries of the night. I feel your spirit surrounding me, merging with mine….

  Epilogue

  September 2016

  Sally

  After September of 1996, Sally continued with weekly therapy until the full integration of the eight alter personalities. The once teen-aged alters, who had matured to her age, bid farewell to their inner world and joined Sally in hers. A touching ceremony marked their transition as each alter stated what she would bring to the one, integrated personality of Sally. The three youngest alters also left that world and remain the inner children that are familiar to all of us—excited to play with kittens or fly a kite.

  A short time after the final integration, when her husband had a job transfer to another state, Sally was quick to find new friends and employment. She sought advanced training and was cited in a national journal for her contribution to an innovative procedure. She became more assertive and spoke out as a community advocate.

  Sally returned to the area every year or two, and we would some-times have a chance to visit. Over the years, I have shared with her the information I was given. When I first began to tell my story to others, she signed a release giving me permission to include her involvement in it. Recently, she read my manuscript and said it furthered her acceptance of the part she played in making it possible.

  Zachary and Amelia

  When I have visited with Sally, Amelia has appeared a number of times and Zachary twice. They are aware of the content of this book, and Amelia said they are pleased with how I have presented their information. They have told me more about the spirit world and our purpose in taking a physical lifetime. It is too much to include in this book—another one is in the planning stages.

  John

  Two years after Michael’s death, I was still frequently aware of his strong presence. Then I became aware of another spirit, one with qualities similar to the Michael I had first known. I was fascinated by how clear it was to me that it was the spirit of a living man. Over a period of several months, I was sometimes aware of a clashing of spiritual energies, a battle of sorts—each was striving for dominance. Michael was always the one to leave; the other one would stay near. I came to know his nature and to recognize his presence.

  The next time I saw Amelia, I asked her if this was the spirit of the man who was to be my new destiny. I thought of John, the man I had felt compelled to make an appointment with fifteen years earlier and had seen only once since then, when we passed on the street. Amelia said she could neither confirm nor deny it. I was working on the first rough draft of this book, and she said my new destiny would not transpire until I had completed it. Two weeks after I did, my path crossed with John’s at a community event and he asked me out.

  A few months later, we began to talk of a future together, and I told him about Michael and how I had been approached. John knew I had been telling others and he was supportive, until he confided in his pastor, who said it could not be true. He then shared the story with one of his business partners, was met with further skepticism, and began to reconsider. He was concerned about the effect it could have on his reputation in the community and thus on his business. He understood that I could not give up the mission that had been entrusted to me, and I understood his dilemma. It was a difficult time for both of us. We grieved together as we took a week to say goodbye, and then another week, and finally made a clean break. Our paths have not crossed since, but his spirit would occasionally be close in the years that followed.

  Some years later, Amelia confirmed that it was John who had been my destiny, and she told me of a secondary life. If Michael had lived, he would have met John first, soon after we married, and they would have become close friends, influenced by their past lifetimes as friends or brothers. When Michael was near death, he called John to his bedside, told him he was aware of his interest in me, and asked him to take care of me; eventually, we would have married. John’s friendship with Michael would have changed his path, and he would have fully supported and joined in my mission.

  Without that secondary life, our destinies took a different course. Amelia said it had been known by the Council that John would have diff
iculty committing to my purpose. Our relationship was meant to be a test for both of us. Would I choose this mission over John? Would he choose it over his reputation and his way of life? Our destiny did bring us together, in line with the desires of our spirits, but its primary purpose was for both of us to learn from the intersecting of our paths, to be put in a position in which we would each have to make a difficult choice. It was not an easy lesson.

  Michael

  Our goodbye in September of 1996 was not my last experience of Michael’s presence. He was often close in the next two years and was with us at every holiday, a member of the family. He was present at graduations and weddings and was with me ten years ago when I first saw my oldest grandchild, Callie’s son, whose middle name is Michael. He was present recently when I first saw my second grandchild, Kenna’s son, who shares the middle name of Michael.

  Michael had said that he would watch over us from a distance, but he has often been an obvious, comforting presence. He was distant during the course of my relationship with John and then came close again to help me through the grief of that loss. When I took a wrong turn on a mountain path a few years ago, as darkness was closing in, it was Michael who showed me the way just as I was looking for a protected spot where I could spend the night. When I finally returned to my manuscript, after years of neglect, I was aware of the constant presence of both Michael and Mahalia—they were reliving it with me.

  Why a Book Now?

  Why not twenty years ago? I did send my first effort to a major publisher, not realizing how rough a draft it was. Then the scope of my life changed and I set my manuscript aside, thinking I might be one of those approached who was meant to reach only a few.

  The events of 9/11/2001 (the destruction of the World Trade Center twin towers and two other terrorist acts) were as shocking to me as they were to the rest of the country. I didn’t know if they were the catastrophe Zachary had said was coming, but I thought it likely. A year later, he told me it had marked the beginning of the series of events of which he had spoken in 1995. The wars and natural disasters in the decade following were also in line with his predictions.

  Events in the world have continued to support what I was told over twenty years ago. The effects of climate change, shifts in disease patterns, and some breaking discoveries in science, were all made known to me then. There has been continued unrest in the world and there are many who are searching for meaning. It is time to provide what answers I can by passing on the information that was given to me.

  Mission

  It took me a while to come to terms with the idea that I was embarking on a mission. I have simply been telling my story. But to recognize the gift of knowledge that has been given to me, and the greater purpose of which it is one part, is to accept that it is both an assignment and a calling.

  I began to tell others in the year after Michael’s death, starting with several colleagues, close friends, and family. I then contacted acquaintances, and some strangers, who I knew had an interest in spiritual topics, about one hundred people altogether. Reactions have been mixed. Some immediately accepted and wanted to know more about my experience; some were immediately skeptical or completely closed to the idea. The majority were somewhere in between. During most of these conversations, I was aware of the presence of one or several spirits lending their support. This was most apparent when I had a receptive audience—their spirits were drawn close.

  I realized early on that my mission is to share what I know—it is not to convince others of its truth. My hope is that each will listen, or read, with an open mind and an open heart, and then consider what I was told in the light of their own beliefs and life experience.

  As this book nears completion, I have had some regrets that I told so many in person. This account is more complete and the story builds and folds back on itself in a way that allows for a deeper understanding of it. Readers will have time for reflection, and to integrate their own experience, as they read it. Some will hear its truth and some will doubt. All are likely to question, to consider, and to reflect—in line with the intent of Zachary and Amelia, Eli, the Council, and the Creator.

  Acknowledgements

  My heartfelt appreciation goes to the many who have listened to my story over the years and to those who have read it. Cherlyn Leach-Valades, Beverly Smith, and Tammy McDaniel read my first draft and responded with encouragement and support. Nancy Sprynczynatyk, Linda Lueders, and Joanna Jones suggested some final refinements.

  Twenty years of gratitude, and more, go to my daughters, who have brought their own wisdom to a journey in which we often walked side by side. My oldest grandson, I thank for his patience when he had to take second place to my writing, my youngest for bringing his newborn wonder to our lives.

  Finally, my gratitude goes to Sally. To have known her, and each of the personalities who have contributed to the person she is, has enriched my life. She first gave of her time and later asked questions that reflected her own search for truth and aided mine.

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