Guardian Angels
Chapter One
MY FIRST MEMORY IN THIS LIFE is waking up a moment too early. In Soul form, I was returning to my two-year-old body after spending the night in higher worlds, as is the nature of Souls while their new baby body sleeps. One morning, I awoke momentarily in Soul awareness just above my head.
In that brief moment before reentering my body, I knew myself as Soul experiencing a pure awareness beyond thought. I perceived 360 degrees in every direction. I knew and remembered a hundred things simultaneously. I recalled my home, a world of Light where I’d worked, challenged by my teachers. I remembered I loved my work and the Souls I worked with. In a flash of Soul awareness, I remembered these things and more as I hovered for the briefest moment above my two-year-old baby body. I slipped into the body through the top of my head and opened my eyes.
Lying on my back awake in the crib, I stared upward. The mental clarity I’d experienced in my out-of-body state was gone. I lay there confused in disbelief. Is this a dream? I questioned. Are they playing a joke on me? I blinked my eyes many times, trying to wake up and make the gray crib, white walls, and ceiling disappear. Blinking didn’t work. I struggled not to panic, stay calm, to find a reasonable explanation.
In the distance, I saw five tall beings standing in a half-circle, clothed in robes of light. Three were ancient-looking Souls with long white hair and beards. The middle, senior member, had a short gray beard, and his eyes danced with light. A tall, slim female with long white hair down her back stood on the far right. She was clothed in sheer robes that moved as if blown by a gentle breeze, emanating shades of blue light. I remembered that I held a special place in her heart. As I stared at them, memories began to return. They were my teachers. We had lived and worked in a world of spirit, filled with fantastic Light. I loved them. They helped prepare me for this life.
They began to discuss my situation in a language without words, silent and swift, faster than I could comprehend. I was somehow able to catch bits of their lightning-fast conversation. They were concerned. Evidently, this unexpected awakening in Soul awareness could cause me problems for years to come, possibly affecting the rest of my life. Humans who retain memories of their spiritual home can suffer from homesickness while on Earth. They often become depressed, feeling like they don’t belong here. They have problems adjusting; nothing on Earth makes sense to them. Many mistakenly commit suicide to return home before their designated time. My life had been intricately planned and linked to many Souls who counted on me to show up in their lives. This sudden awakening might jeopardize everything.
My teachers couldn’t interrupt this Soul-waking experience. That would interfere with my free will. Many Soul memories had already crossed over into my subconscious mind to be recalled later in life. I’d incarnated with a determined will to challenge reality—to wake up! My enthusiasm to wake spiritually created this situation. Like a sprinter poised at the starting line, I’d jumped my start. But I couldn’t be called back. The damage had been done. They’d have to find a way to quickly return the veil of forgetfulness if I were to have a productive life.
I lay there for perhaps an hour, trying to understand what was happening. My awareness seemed to be dimming by the minute. It felt like I was at the bottom of an ocean made up of dense, swirling energy obstructing the light. An increasingly dark veil seemed to be blocking my vision of the inner planes, magnifying my sense of confusion and isolation. Peering through the dense matter swirling around me became impossible. I felt trapped, helpless. I needed more love—more Light. Moment by moment, an unsettling thought impressed itself upon me. Maybe this wasn’t a joke; perhaps this was real. Perhaps this dark world was my new home?
As I was thinking these thoughts, I saw my bedroom door open and heard a warm, loving voice. My mother was wearing a short-sleeved, light-yellow sweater. She spoke to me in sounds I didn’t understand, but I understood her thoughts that she projected towards me with loving intention. She thought It was late. You usually cry for me when you wake in the morning. I’m surprised that you are lying quietly in your crib.
A warm pulse of love flowed from her body into mine. My mother scooped me up in a thin blanket and held me to her chest, my face against hers. I felt the warmth of my mother’s love envelop me as a sleepy fog overtook me. Veils of forgetfulness closed, shielding me from memories of past lives and my life-between-lives until it became time for me to remember.
In the years that followed, I had problems identifying with other children. I often didn’t understand how to play and make-believe. I preferred the company of adults, but even they often acted illogically. I felt overwhelmed. I witnessed cruelty and anger. This frightened me; I didn’t understand. It was hard for me to feel close to people. I felt inadequate, too small, unsure of everything but the love I felt from my parents.
Unknown to me, my teachers were watching, prepared to help when the time came. Such were my ancient friends, my wingless guardian angels.