An Invitation
I've been holding off on posting this Part III of Walking On: Beyond Death With Steve. I've just been adding anecdotes and dreams I've had about him since he crossed over the Veil of Forgetting. I chose to walk beyond the old concepts surrounding death simply by keeping myself open to potentials most of us humans haven't realized were even possible. I'm allowing it to simply unfold, trusting there is a new way. Do I have frustrating, missing-him-terribly moments? Yes! But I have an unshakable trust in myself that it will all work out. Just keep yourself open, Pen, and allow yourself to receive all the gifts that come your way in this.
Steve often met people for the first time who'd tell him that they knew him--they recognized him as a character in their dreams at night. He wouldn't recall any of it, and was frustrated that he couldn't. He usually woke up nauseated. But he got a kick out of hearing the stories from friends and acquaintances, and then sharing them with me.
We both desired for the two of us to be able to travel and meet in the other dimensions. It finally happened the week he helped us move to Minot nearly eleven years ago. I remembered grinning ear to ear and joyfully greeting him in my dreams that night, "We finally did it!" I made a note to myself to remember it in the morning. I did actually recall it (a grand-feeling feat for me), but Steve once again didn't remember a thing--he just awoke dizzy and nauseated and nearly fell out of his bed.
Note: Dizziness and a bit of nausea are often symptoms of traveling across many dimensions or realities--nothing is wrong with you. You're just not accustomed to the awareness of doing it, and so there is a resistance--a bracing of oneself. The more one RELAXES and ALLOWS it by moving through one's fear about it, the easier and more graceful the experience becomes.
Also: When you want to leave a reality or dimension, SIMPLY CHOOSE this reality, and you're here instantly. You need to know you can't get stuck, not really. Just choose this one, and you're back to a place you know how to navigate as a human.
I've been prone to motion sickness most of my life. And then Adamus Saint-Germain talked about how we, as pinpoints of conscious awareness, don't actually move at all. We are eternal and stationary. Even when we seem to have bodies that move and sense--that's actually energy in the forms of space and time (aka Bon) flowing in patterns to us, and through us. It's basically just like sitting in an omnitheater, in a stationary seat with a surrounding screen of flowing vistas of mountainous peaks and canyons of treacherous turns, where it feels like one false move on my part would have me falling and crashing. Only I can't actually fall or crash because I'm the projector and the light--it's all just a very sensual experience.
Last time I flew, knowing that I was stationary and that the turbulence of the airplane I was on was just energies flowing around and through me, that I really wasn't locked in a moving vehicle traveling through air space--it was the first time I didn't experience motion sickness while flying. It used to take me the rest of the day and a good night's sleep to recover from airplane travel that was bumpy.
I may prove myself to be a complete and utter fool, but I realize I don't care about that. I'm not hurting anyone. This is my gift of a life. This is my reality to manifest and play in. I had to step away from Facebook for a bit because so many of our loved ones are crossing over the Veil and I feel my energies, out of old habit, rush into their stories, holding their pain. It's so seductive that I feel myself caught up in the grief, the loss, the utter sadness--and in some cases, the guilt--before I realize I'm doing it. It made it difficult to keep myself open and the energies flowing.
So, I invite those of you who choose to open yourselves up to connecting with Steve and your other loved ones--humans and pets on the other side of the Veil--please feel free to share your stories with me. I will treasure them. Remember to watch for the simple things, the subtle things...
In the days and months following Steve's transition, amid the bouts of grief and my grappling to keep myself open to see all of this through in a new way, I've experienced, I just realized, quite a number of reassuring winks, dreams, and reminders that all is well:
It--everything--comes to you.
The day after Steve left his body, Laurie and I had lunch at Ruby Tuesdays in Bismarck. I chose to eat there in memory of having a meal with Steve at the one in Minot. While perusing the drinks menu, I'd noted the raspberry lemonade felt appealing, but didn't order it. I didn't say anything about it out loud to our waitress. I just went with water. As Laurie and I were enjoying our salads, our waitress came by and offered us a raspberry lemonade that she'd accidentally made for someone else. Immediately, I remembered Adamus Saint-Germain devoting a whole shoud, using a simple cup of coffee as an example, to reminding me that everything comes to me. It comes to you...keep yourself open...and just let yourself receive it...
The hawk.
Steve was a school bus driver for a number of years, and along one of his routes he told about hawks perching on a line of fence posts on a regular basis when he passed by. When we buried his ashes on our hill on the farm, a hawk circled overhead nearby.
Another hawk called out to us and perched in a branch almost in reach of us as I was walking around Oak Park in Minot with my Reiki master friend, Brenda. I was telling her about Steve's music and the way that his songs first came to him in other languages which later would translate into English. Of the losses I experienced, Steve's music was perhaps one of the greatest. When he stayed with Kelly and me, I used to feel myself shift into other dimensions while he played and sang. Brenda is aware that birds and animals that appear on our paths hold significance, so it was wonderful to have her witness and acknowledge his presence with me.
Later on in the summer, another hawk perched in the cottonwood tree in our back yard while I was out with the cats. I had been talking to Steve while sitting on the back steps when it just flew in. This bird had a grand presence--so much so that I gathered my three kitties and put them inside. It stayed for a couple of hours. I doubt it would have harmed my cats, but I wanted to enjoy its presence without any fear. It was easier to keep myself open that way.
My dreams of Steve.
One of my favorite dreams is the one where I approached this woman sitting in a corner booth at a restaurant. She was offering her condolences at the death of my brother. But I was looking at her, inwardly shaking my head. There she was, telling me how sorry she was at the loss of my brother when said brother, Steve, was sitting right next to her in the same booth, eyes dancing with laughter, acting especially clever and silly, widely grinning, sporting a goatee! I can still hear him belly-laughing at me with that one.
In another dream I remember reuniting joyfully with Steve and Dad. I actually walked into Dad's arms and soaked in a hug.
On the morning of January 12, 2017, I awoke remembering this part of a dream: Steve had returned to this Earth realm and he was playing his guitar and singing all the songs he'd written while he was incarnate here--all the songs I once grieved had been lost into obscurity due to his transition that humans call death.
A synchronistic encounter.
Steve and I shared a love of our local libraries and reading. I had an odd, yet sweet and profound experience at the library last fall. I was perusing the new paperbacks shelves when I realized someone was standing close behind me. I turned to acknowledge the person and to apologize for hogging the space, when I realized he was talking to me and referring to the train going by right outside the window. He told me his father drove the trains in India, that he was born in Bombay, and that later in his youth his family moved to a village of 500,000 in the Himalayas.
He continued on and recited to me a condensed version of his life story, opening his wallet to show me a picture of his American wife and of his daughter. He and his wife met at a university in Houston, Texas. After their three children had been raised, his wife's work allowed her and him to travel throughout China and Asia. After 6 years abroad, he asked her to allow them to return home to their kids and families in the US. She flew back home with him, got him settled, and then returned to China alone, where she's been ever since. Her sons even tried to get a court order to make her stay in the US. Of course, the judge ruled in her favor, while reminding her that the reason her sons did so was simply because they wanted her near.
The gentleman ended his story by opening his wallet one last time to show me his name on his driver's license: "Jayant." He still awaits his wife's return some day, and he said his name reminds him that his hope is not lost: "Jay" means "Victory"; and "ant" means "in the end."
I've been holding off on posting this Part III of Walking On: Beyond Death With Steve. I've just been adding anecdotes and dreams I've had about him since he crossed over the Veil of Forgetting. I chose to walk beyond the old concepts surrounding death simply by keeping myself open to potentials most of us humans haven't realized were even possible. I'm allowing it to simply unfold, trusting there is a new way. Do I have frustrating, missing-him-terribly moments? Yes! But I have an unshakable trust in myself that it will all work out. Just keep yourself open, Pen, and allow yourself to receive all the gifts that come your way in this.
Steve often met people for the first time who'd tell him that they knew him--they recognized him as a character in their dreams at night. He wouldn't recall any of it, and was frustrated that he couldn't. He usually woke up nauseated. But he got a kick out of hearing the stories from friends and acquaintances, and then sharing them with me.
We both desired for the two of us to be able to travel and meet in the other dimensions. It finally happened the week he helped us move to Minot nearly eleven years ago. I remembered grinning ear to ear and joyfully greeting him in my dreams that night, "We finally did it!" I made a note to myself to remember it in the morning. I did actually recall it (a grand-feeling feat for me), but Steve once again didn't remember a thing--he just awoke dizzy and nauseated and nearly fell out of his bed.
Note: Dizziness and a bit of nausea are often symptoms of traveling across many dimensions or realities--nothing is wrong with you. You're just not accustomed to the awareness of doing it, and so there is a resistance--a bracing of oneself. The more one RELAXES and ALLOWS it by moving through one's fear about it, the easier and more graceful the experience becomes.
Also: When you want to leave a reality or dimension, SIMPLY CHOOSE this reality, and you're here instantly. You need to know you can't get stuck, not really. Just choose this one, and you're back to a place you know how to navigate as a human.
I've been prone to motion sickness most of my life. And then Adamus Saint-Germain talked about how we, as pinpoints of conscious awareness, don't actually move at all. We are eternal and stationary. Even when we seem to have bodies that move and sense--that's actually energy in the forms of space and time (aka Bon) flowing in patterns to us, and through us. It's basically just like sitting in an omnitheater, in a stationary seat with a surrounding screen of flowing vistas of mountainous peaks and canyons of treacherous turns, where it feels like one false move on my part would have me falling and crashing. Only I can't actually fall or crash because I'm the projector and the light--it's all just a very sensual experience.
Last time I flew, knowing that I was stationary and that the turbulence of the airplane I was on was just energies flowing around and through me, that I really wasn't locked in a moving vehicle traveling through air space--it was the first time I didn't experience motion sickness while flying. It used to take me the rest of the day and a good night's sleep to recover from airplane travel that was bumpy.
I may prove myself to be a complete and utter fool, but I realize I don't care about that. I'm not hurting anyone. This is my gift of a life. This is my reality to manifest and play in. I had to step away from Facebook for a bit because so many of our loved ones are crossing over the Veil and I feel my energies, out of old habit, rush into their stories, holding their pain. It's so seductive that I feel myself caught up in the grief, the loss, the utter sadness--and in some cases, the guilt--before I realize I'm doing it. It made it difficult to keep myself open and the energies flowing.
So, I invite those of you who choose to open yourselves up to connecting with Steve and your other loved ones--humans and pets on the other side of the Veil--please feel free to share your stories with me. I will treasure them. Remember to watch for the simple things, the subtle things...
In the days and months following Steve's transition, amid the bouts of grief and my grappling to keep myself open to see all of this through in a new way, I've experienced, I just realized, quite a number of reassuring winks, dreams, and reminders that all is well:
It--everything--comes to you.
The day after Steve left his body, Laurie and I had lunch at Ruby Tuesdays in Bismarck. I chose to eat there in memory of having a meal with Steve at the one in Minot. While perusing the drinks menu, I'd noted the raspberry lemonade felt appealing, but didn't order it. I didn't say anything about it out loud to our waitress. I just went with water. As Laurie and I were enjoying our salads, our waitress came by and offered us a raspberry lemonade that she'd accidentally made for someone else. Immediately, I remembered Adamus Saint-Germain devoting a whole shoud, using a simple cup of coffee as an example, to reminding me that everything comes to me. It comes to you...keep yourself open...and just let yourself receive it...
The hawk.
Steve was a school bus driver for a number of years, and along one of his routes he told about hawks perching on a line of fence posts on a regular basis when he passed by. When we buried his ashes on our hill on the farm, a hawk circled overhead nearby.
Another hawk called out to us and perched in a branch almost in reach of us as I was walking around Oak Park in Minot with my Reiki master friend, Brenda. I was telling her about Steve's music and the way that his songs first came to him in other languages which later would translate into English. Of the losses I experienced, Steve's music was perhaps one of the greatest. When he stayed with Kelly and me, I used to feel myself shift into other dimensions while he played and sang. Brenda is aware that birds and animals that appear on our paths hold significance, so it was wonderful to have her witness and acknowledge his presence with me.
Later on in the summer, another hawk perched in the cottonwood tree in our back yard while I was out with the cats. I had been talking to Steve while sitting on the back steps when it just flew in. This bird had a grand presence--so much so that I gathered my three kitties and put them inside. It stayed for a couple of hours. I doubt it would have harmed my cats, but I wanted to enjoy its presence without any fear. It was easier to keep myself open that way.
My dreams of Steve.
One of my favorite dreams is the one where I approached this woman sitting in a corner booth at a restaurant. She was offering her condolences at the death of my brother. But I was looking at her, inwardly shaking my head. There she was, telling me how sorry she was at the loss of my brother when said brother, Steve, was sitting right next to her in the same booth, eyes dancing with laughter, acting especially clever and silly, widely grinning, sporting a goatee! I can still hear him belly-laughing at me with that one.
In another dream I remember reuniting joyfully with Steve and Dad. I actually walked into Dad's arms and soaked in a hug.
On the morning of January 12, 2017, I awoke remembering this part of a dream: Steve had returned to this Earth realm and he was playing his guitar and singing all the songs he'd written while he was incarnate here--all the songs I once grieved had been lost into obscurity due to his transition that humans call death.
A synchronistic encounter.
Steve and I shared a love of our local libraries and reading. I had an odd, yet sweet and profound experience at the library last fall. I was perusing the new paperbacks shelves when I realized someone was standing close behind me. I turned to acknowledge the person and to apologize for hogging the space, when I realized he was talking to me and referring to the train going by right outside the window. He told me his father drove the trains in India, that he was born in Bombay, and that later in his youth his family moved to a village of 500,000 in the Himalayas.
He continued on and recited to me a condensed version of his life story, opening his wallet to show me a picture of his American wife and of his daughter. He and his wife met at a university in Houston, Texas. After their three children had been raised, his wife's work allowed her and him to travel throughout China and Asia. After 6 years abroad, he asked her to allow them to return home to their kids and families in the US. She flew back home with him, got him settled, and then returned to China alone, where she's been ever since. Her sons even tried to get a court order to make her stay in the US. Of course, the judge ruled in her favor, while reminding her that the reason her sons did so was simply because they wanted her near.
The gentleman ended his story by opening his wallet one last time to show me his name on his driver's license: "Jayant." He still awaits his wife's return some day, and he said his name reminds him that his hope is not lost: "Jay" means "Victory"; and "ant" means "in the end."
I admit, it threw me for a few days until I remembered to ask myself what gift he was bearing me...and then it was so clearly and wonderfully there!!! Steve, who loved the library, had his kind messenger deliver my reminder to allow for the something grander to unfold: "Victory in the end."
Reminders that pass through my mind, helping me to smile and keep myself open.
"It all works out in the end, and if it hasn't worked out, then it isn't the end yet."--The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel
"Can you allow the twists and turns in your life and allow the grander something to unfold?"--Adamus Saint-Germain
"Just relax! It all happens naturally...Anding and Allowing are the tools..."--Adamus Saint-Germain
"It comes to you."--Adamus Saint-Germain
"You never did anything wrong. Nobody ever did anything wrong. Not really."--Tobias
"Open and Allow..."--Adamus Saint-Germain
My realization about death and perception in my own experiences.
This is how dense the old mass consciousness of humanity is surrounding death: I've been flying and jumping and staying suspended in the air in my dreams again. I've had many of these types of dreams throughout my life, but I always just wrote them off as just dreams--I didn't view them as real. I have had both Mom and Dad (who died in 2001 and 2003) return to life in my dreams, but I wasn't allowing myself to celebrate and fully enjoy being with them again. Because my HUMAN MIND, which believes this reality where they are dead and long buried is the only true reality, kept jumping ahead into grief and deep, deep sadness. I felt myself braced to lose them to death right away. It totally skewed and distorted my very real interaction with them. I had them--huggable, touchable--right there with me, but I was in a deep state of depression at losing them again, believing it was coming at any moment.
All my loved ones keep appearing in my dream states, but I haven't yet had them show up in this reality, and now I understand why. The density of human mass consciousness and its systematic belief in death here doesn't keep itself open to that possibility. Most of humanity believes that dead is dead, and that we can't interact with those who have left their bodies--and this deeply felt belief keeps us imprisoned in the death story ILLUSION.
We have friends, loved ones, acquaintances and strangers walk in and out of our lives all the time--some of whom we don't see for many months or years--but when we see them we don't even question the reality of their existence with us unless we've been told that they died in the interim.
People pass in and out of this singular--my Earthly dimensional reality--all the time, and when they are gone from my physical presence they travel in dimensions I'm not aware of or even in. Yet I trust in their existence--I absolutely trust that they are alive, even if I don't see or hear or feel them in the usual sense.
Steve sometimes appears in my dreams, and then suddenly I don't perceive him for months. But this is exactly what is happening with my other brothers and sisters who are currently "alive." I love and miss them, too, when we're apart--but I don't get seduced into a deep and mournful depression surrounding their absence. I don't question or doubt their being alive. I am open to seeing them again, hugging them--and so when they appear in my reality, I celebrate and enjoy our time together while I have it, until the next time we get together.
Sometimes the possibility of death gets used by humans as a means to control others.
"You're going to feel really guilty if you don't do what I want you to do, and then I up and die before we get together again."
That's a power play--holding one's possible death over another--and it initially triggers me to get ticked off with the person doing it. But when I step back and allow myself to see we're just role-playing out a fictitious act together, I find myself grinning a bit and chuckling to myself at the funny story we have going.
When I feelingly allow myself to move through that deep inner fear to the other side of it--that this time might be our last together, that someone might die before we meet again--well, there's a light at the end of this old death tunnel story. The mourning and guilt tentacles loosen their hold on me.There is a burden-lifting freedom in realizing that I have never done, nor could do, anything truly wrong. That NO ONE has done, or will do, anything wrong. It's all just an act on all our parts.
Death is just an illusion.
Ever since my mom crossed over in the fall of 2001, I've remembered the book of Job in the Old Testament. Job lost everyone and everything. In the end, though, his abundant life and all his friends and loved ones were restored. He truly hadn't lost anything, but he had gained a great deal of WISDOM and COMPASSION from all his "I'm just a Little Human" experiences.
We are divine spirits joyfully playing in HUMAN COSTUMES.
It's all just a big fat "Let's Pretend" story that I can allow myself to be released from at any point. Just because a loved one's death was a potential I experienced in the past doesn't mean I can't transcend the linearity of time and space here--for my loved ones are very much eternally alive and well! I just need to remain open to perceiving them and enjoying their company when they come to me, however they come to me.
And so it is...
Related Posts:
Walking On...Beyond Death With Steve
Walking On...Beyond Death With Steve, Part II
Steve's Legacy of Songs: Finding Your Own Words
Reminders that pass through my mind, helping me to smile and keep myself open.
"It all works out in the end, and if it hasn't worked out, then it isn't the end yet."--The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel
"Can you allow the twists and turns in your life and allow the grander something to unfold?"--Adamus Saint-Germain
"Just relax! It all happens naturally...Anding and Allowing are the tools..."--Adamus Saint-Germain
"It comes to you."--Adamus Saint-Germain
"You never did anything wrong. Nobody ever did anything wrong. Not really."--Tobias
"Open and Allow..."--Adamus Saint-Germain
My realization about death and perception in my own experiences.
This is how dense the old mass consciousness of humanity is surrounding death: I've been flying and jumping and staying suspended in the air in my dreams again. I've had many of these types of dreams throughout my life, but I always just wrote them off as just dreams--I didn't view them as real. I have had both Mom and Dad (who died in 2001 and 2003) return to life in my dreams, but I wasn't allowing myself to celebrate and fully enjoy being with them again. Because my HUMAN MIND, which believes this reality where they are dead and long buried is the only true reality, kept jumping ahead into grief and deep, deep sadness. I felt myself braced to lose them to death right away. It totally skewed and distorted my very real interaction with them. I had them--huggable, touchable--right there with me, but I was in a deep state of depression at losing them again, believing it was coming at any moment.
All my loved ones keep appearing in my dream states, but I haven't yet had them show up in this reality, and now I understand why. The density of human mass consciousness and its systematic belief in death here doesn't keep itself open to that possibility. Most of humanity believes that dead is dead, and that we can't interact with those who have left their bodies--and this deeply felt belief keeps us imprisoned in the death story ILLUSION.
We have friends, loved ones, acquaintances and strangers walk in and out of our lives all the time--some of whom we don't see for many months or years--but when we see them we don't even question the reality of their existence with us unless we've been told that they died in the interim.
People pass in and out of this singular--my Earthly dimensional reality--all the time, and when they are gone from my physical presence they travel in dimensions I'm not aware of or even in. Yet I trust in their existence--I absolutely trust that they are alive, even if I don't see or hear or feel them in the usual sense.
Steve sometimes appears in my dreams, and then suddenly I don't perceive him for months. But this is exactly what is happening with my other brothers and sisters who are currently "alive." I love and miss them, too, when we're apart--but I don't get seduced into a deep and mournful depression surrounding their absence. I don't question or doubt their being alive. I am open to seeing them again, hugging them--and so when they appear in my reality, I celebrate and enjoy our time together while I have it, until the next time we get together.
Sometimes the possibility of death gets used by humans as a means to control others.
"You're going to feel really guilty if you don't do what I want you to do, and then I up and die before we get together again."
That's a power play--holding one's possible death over another--and it initially triggers me to get ticked off with the person doing it. But when I step back and allow myself to see we're just role-playing out a fictitious act together, I find myself grinning a bit and chuckling to myself at the funny story we have going.
When I feelingly allow myself to move through that deep inner fear to the other side of it--that this time might be our last together, that someone might die before we meet again--well, there's a light at the end of this old death tunnel story. The mourning and guilt tentacles loosen their hold on me.There is a burden-lifting freedom in realizing that I have never done, nor could do, anything truly wrong. That NO ONE has done, or will do, anything wrong. It's all just an act on all our parts.
Death is just an illusion.
Ever since my mom crossed over in the fall of 2001, I've remembered the book of Job in the Old Testament. Job lost everyone and everything. In the end, though, his abundant life and all his friends and loved ones were restored. He truly hadn't lost anything, but he had gained a great deal of WISDOM and COMPASSION from all his "I'm just a Little Human" experiences.
We are divine spirits joyfully playing in HUMAN COSTUMES.
It's all just a big fat "Let's Pretend" story that I can allow myself to be released from at any point. Just because a loved one's death was a potential I experienced in the past doesn't mean I can't transcend the linearity of time and space here--for my loved ones are very much eternally alive and well! I just need to remain open to perceiving them and enjoying their company when they come to me, however they come to me.
And so it is...
Related Posts:
Walking On...Beyond Death With Steve
Walking On...Beyond Death With Steve, Part II
Steve's Legacy of Songs: Finding Your Own Words