Eyes of an Angel Read online

  As I boarded the plane for the last leg of my flight home, I couldn't chase the images out of my mind. Me, write a book? It just didn't seem possible.

  We hadn't been long in the air before I fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep. I recall fleeting images of butterflies and Patricia. I dreamed about grass-covered valleys, the ocean, and a dark-haired woman I seemed to have known so long ago. As the plane finally touched down, I awoke with a feeling that these two wonderful beings were somehow connected. Their energies felt so similar, so familiar.

  13

  Healing Hearts

  And now in slumber's sweet delight

  Dream angels carry us in flight

  When there are no more souls to mend

  Who is the angel God will send?

  Back from Virginia, I felt like I had returned from a lifetime away. Nothing seemed to be the same. I was having a great deal of difficulty picking up where I left off, and determining how I fit into the scheme of things. Everything around me seemed too harsh, too crowded, and too noisy. My biggest problem, though, was figuring out how I should be feeling. Completely open, emotional, and vulnerable, I wasn't so sure I liked it. Things that I previously held as important now seemed insignificant and petty. Each day I spent hours lost in thought, reviewing and reliving the experiences that had turned my world inside out.

  The integration of feminine energy into my life was a lot tougher than I would have believed. When the angels first told me about it, I couldn't even imagine what it would be like, much less deal with the powerful effect it held over me. Through their ministrations and energy treatments, they had facilitated a change in my vibration. But most significantly, they had opened my heart to accept and embrace the feminine energies within my being.

  Although worried about her reaction, I shared all of the week's experiences with Candace. From the meeting with Patricia, to the emotional reunion with my angels and the sensuous encounter with the female spirit, I told her everything. Her reaction was amazing. Although she admitted to a bit of jealousy, Candace found the account fascinating and intriguing. She thought it would be wonderful to meet someone with whom you felt a soul connection. She also thought that I should stay in touch with Patricia. I was sincerely grateful for her thoughtfulness and understanding.

  As the days went by, I became obsessed with thoughts of Patricia. Wondering about the possible spiritual connections we shared, I yearned for answers. Why had I been so affected by her? Were there any special reasons for our meeting? The questions were endless and bewildering.

  On top of problems focusing on work, at night I had difficulty sleeping. I would lie awake for hours, fighting the barrage of thoughts that often kept me awake until dawn.

  Several nights after my return home, I settled into bed with the usual scattering of images cluttering my mind. As I began to drift into the twilight of sleep, thoughts of Patricia surfaced in my awareness. In frustration, more to myself than anyone else, I pleaded, “Why can't I get her out of my mind?” From out of nowhere came a distinct, whispered reply.

  “Because she is a part of you.”

  The presence of my angel guides swept through me in a wave of energy. Although I heard their words clearly, I struggled to grasp the meaning. “She's a part of me? What's that supposed to mean?”

  “You and she are of the same energy.” The soft female voice was lucid and precise.

  Puzzled, I asked, “The same energy?”

  “You and she share the same soul energy. You are what some refer to as soul mates.”

  “Soul mates?” The words reverberated in my mind. I felt certain that Patricia and I had known each other in a previous existence, but I sure wasn't prepared for a soul mate connection. Even though Meldor had once described the concept to me, I gave it little consideration. Now I was stunned by the revelation.

  “You and Patricia,” the angel continued, “are part of the same individuated energy. The intense emotional pull that you feel is the memory of another part of you that is in harmony with the total vibration of your being. She is the balance of your energy. When two aspects of the same energy source meet in the physical world, the reaction can be powerful and unsettling. That is why you feel the way you do. Your reunion in this lifetime is not by accident or chance, but rather due to specific purpose and need. Through your heart, you will soon come to realize that need and purpose.”

  As the angel spoke, her voice began to fade, and I found myself struggling to stay awake. The more I fought to maintain consciousness, the further I sank into the heaviness of sleep. The next thing I knew, it was morning, and I was awakening from a dream of a hauntingly familiar classroom and a group of wonderful, loving, light-beings.

  Throughout the day, I carried with me an odd feeling of homesickness. It left me perplexed. Which home was I missing?

  Although the angelic message had brought me some relief as to the nature of my connection with Patricia, it created a multitude of new questions. The concept staggered me. Had I truly found a soul mate? But there was an even bigger question: “Now what?”

  We had promised to keep in touch, and thanks to e-mail, we did. As the weeks sailed by, Patricia and I learned more about each other and we quickly became the best of friends.

  Candace remained supportive and understanding throughout. Firmly believing that our meeting was not just a coincidence, she encouraged us to explore our spiritual connection.

  While all of this unfolded, a strange mixture of feelings haunted me. It seemed that just about everything affected me in an overboard, emotional way. Where in the past I could suppress or ignore my emotional responses, I now found it impossible. I began to feel and internalize even the slightest bit of emotional pain in the people around me, especially my family and friends. The way I reacted or thought about things was changing dramatically, and there didn't seem to be a thing I could do about it.

  Through the years of raising children, Candace and I never seemed to have had much time to just sit and talk. But following my return from Virginia, we would spend hours each day chatting about our goals, relationships, and spirituality.

  I found that the connection with my new guides, or angels, was much more subtle than my previous associations with Meldor. Reaching their vibrational state seemed more difficult. I knew they were always with me, but their communication was mostly soft and gentle. I very seldom saw them, yet in times of need I would often hear their thoughts in my mind, always reassuring, always loving, and always feminine. Sometimes I had the impression that if something was in my best interests, they simply made it happen.

  All of these things added to the raw emotion I was already experiencing. There was no question about it; the angels had certainly managed to open my heart, and I felt every ounce of the love and pain that came with it.

  In the months that followed, I grew more and more homesick. Hoping it might provide some clues to my nostalgia, I reread my old notes, especially Meldor's discussion of soul mates and soul groups. The answers, however, were not apparent. With the persistent sadness continuing to weigh heavily, it became obvious I was going to have to work through it myself.

  One night as I lay in meditation, I suddenly found myself floating in a bright, vibrant space. Before me, a massive, rotating sphere of energy began to materialize.

  I had no idea what, or who, it was, but something about it was so familiar, it started a reaction within my body. Before I knew it, my own energy had begun to change. Within seconds, I was vibrating in harmony with what appeared to be a single colossal spirit.

  Although it didn't seem rational, I had the urge to allow myself to become absorbed into its energy. Like a giant magnet, drawing me ever closer, it exerted a compelling power over me. But just as I was about to give in to the pull of this giant being, it began to soften and change in appearance. Soon I could discern a number of individual, swirling bright spots within its aura. As I drew closer, some of these oscillating energy clusters began to break away from the larger body. Within moments
I was surrounded by a group of bright, shimmering forms. Then, one by one, they transformed into distinct physical beings. Faces appeared, male and female, smiling reassuringly, their loving radiance melting into my heart.

  Slowly, feelings of recognition and longing came over me. Then suddenly I understood. This was the source of my homesickness. These were the members of my soul group—my classmates, my spiritual family. They knew me intimately, perhaps better than I knew myself, and they loved me unconditionally.

  Overwhelmed with the emotional energy of their combined presence, I remained motionless, absorbed in the power of their vibrations, wishing I could stay. In the euphoria of their blissful energy, my awareness began slipping away, and momentarily I succumbed to sleep. An instant later, I was back in my body.

  I didn't want the experience to be over. Fighting to maintain the connection, I struggled to hold onto their vibration. For a moment my third eye reopened to bright smiling faces. Then the vision faded and I was alone in the darkness of my bedroom. Tears flowed from my eyes. Whether from sadness or happiness, it was impossible to contain my emotions. Hugging my pillow, I cried until sleep again overcame me.

  In the morning I awoke with vigor and renewed direction in my life. Reflecting on the significance of my soul group encounter, I understood they had come to support and encourage me. Awed by the reality of their existence, buoyed by their unconditional love, I felt immensely better. A burden had been lifted from my heart.

  Patricia and I continued our correspondence. The bond between us was too powerful to ignore. Anxious to see each other again, we came upon a solution—a spiritual conference in Utah. With my wife's encouragement, I agreed to go.

  Candace never failed to amaze me. Although I'm sure she struggled with the possible risks this could present to our marriage, she didn't believe in coincidences. Convinced there must be an important reason for our meeting again in this lifetime, she felt we'd be ignoring our own spiritual callings if we didn't try to find some answers.

  The beauty of southern Utah was stunning. Surrounded by gigantic, naturally formed rock statues and canyons, I had never been to a place more spiritual. In awe of its immense, desolate beauty, Patricia and I found the sanctity of the place intoxicating.

  We knew our time together would be short. Outside of the workshop, we spent every available minute deep in conversation, learning more about each other's lives and dreams. Our connection deeply spiritual, even though Patricia was still skeptical, I became increasingly intrigued at the possibility of exploring any past lives we might have shared.

  For several years I had been investigating numerous forms of consciousness exploration. An important aspect of my research dealt with various modes and applications for hypnotism. Experimenting with a number of possibilities, including past-life regression, I had occasionally enlisted some of my own family and friends to develop a few of my own techniques. At the end of the conference schedule, Patricia and I decided to experiment to see what we could uncover.

  As Patricia relaxed on a couch, I guided her through a process of ever-deepening relaxation, leading her into an altered state. The plan was to move back in time, through various stages of her life, until she was able to re-experience herself in the womb. Upon reaching that point, I would then suggest she move even further back, to a time prior to this present life, where she could conceivably recall previous lifetimes. At least that was the plan, but it didn't quite turn out that way.

  The session seemed to get off to a good start. Through suggestion, I encouraged Patricia to return in her mind to a happy time when she was 16. Although I hadn't asked her to describe what she was experiencing, from the contented, animated expression on her face, I could tell that she was indeed reliving a happy time. Allowing her to enjoy her memories, I then gave the suggestion that she return to an earlier age, when she was perhaps nine or ten. At this point a change began to take place.

  As Patricia settled into the suggestion, her eyelids started to twitch and the expression on her face shifted to sadness. Slowly moving her head from side to side, she looked as if she was trying to block what she was experiencing. I asked her to tell me what was happening.

  “It's my puppy,” she said in a slow, faltering voice.

  “Your puppy?” I repeated.

  “Yes, he's just sleeping in the yard.”

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “I'm nine and a half,” she replied. Her voice seemed distant, almost childlike.

  “Tell me about your puppy,” I said, trying to sound upbeat.

  “He's so cute,” she responded quickly, her voice a bit brighter. “He's just little, only four months old.”

  “He sounds like a very nice puppy,” I offered. “Was he a good puppy?”

  “Yes, he was good,” she responded adamantly, almost defensively. And then she became very quiet, seemingly deep in thought. After a few moments she continued, “Well, he was mostly good.” Her voice trailed off.... She seemed to be struggling with her emotions. Her lips began to quiver. She was trying not to cry. “He didn't mean to be bad. He was just sleeping.”

  “Did something happen to your puppy?” I asked softly.

  “Yes! Something bad,” she sobbed. “Something very bad.”

  With her eyes scrunched up and lips quivering, she now seemed to be fighting for control. Taken aback by the raw power of her emotions, I was unsure how to proceed. I knew that I needed to calm her down.

  “It's okay, Patricia,” I said, touching her hand to comfort her. “There's nothing to worry about. This is something that happened a long time ago. You don't have to experience it again if you don't want to. Take a deep breath now, and just allow yourself to relax. Let all of your unhappy feelings go.”

  Within a few minutes, Patricia appeared to be resting comfortably. I wondered if it would be helpful and healing for her to revisit the trauma she had obviously experienced with her puppy. Gently, I broached the subject again.

  “There, now that you're relaxed and comfortable again, if you want, we can talk about your puppy. You don't have to be a little girl again. You can just watch what happens as if you're seeing it on television. Any time you want, you can just turn the TV off, or change the channel. Would you like to tell me more about your puppy?”

  Almost immediately her body stiffened, her breathing became shallow. “No, please,” she whispered pleadingly, “I don't want to see it. It's awful.”

  Considering the emotional state the mere mention of the puppy elicited, I thought it best to move away from the subject. If it was important for her to relive the experience, she could explore it again another time. Slowly and carefully, I counted her out of her trance. After a few moments of quiet, she stretched her arms and neck, and finally opened her eyes.

  I felt bad that she had had a negative experience, and wanted to console her. I told her I was sorry about how the experiment had gone, and hoped that she wouldn't let it deter her from trying again in the future. With a puzzled look on her face, Patricia, however, said she was glad for the experience. She said it must have been previously blocked from her mind, but somehow she could now remember everything. It had been a very sad moment in her life, but she felt the need to share it with me.

  Taking a deep breath, Patricia launched into the most compelling and heart-wrenching story I have ever heard.

  “It happened the summer that I was about nine years old,” she began. “My dad and my little brother and I were living on a small parcel of land on the side of a mountain in Oregon. We had a stallion that we kept in a corral close to the house. Sometimes the horse would get out of the corral and run away. Our closest neighbor was a bit further down the mountain, about a half-mile away. He kept a couple of mares in his pasture. Whenever our horse got away, that's where he would go. It had already happened a number of times and our neighbor was getting really mad about it, and that bothered my dad.

  “One Saturday afternoon dad went into town to get some things, and left me to look after my bro
ther. The puppy was just a few months old then. It was a nice warm day, and he just curled up and went to sleep in the middle of the yard. The horse wasn't in the corral. My dad had tethered him to a stake outside the corral so he could eat some grass in the yard. The horse was grazing along when he noticed the puppy. He bent his head down and sniffed at him. It must have startled the puppy, because he jumped up barking. That frightened the horse. He bucked back, yanked the stake out of the ground, and started to run away. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't, and he ran all the way down to our neighbor's property.

  “When my dad got home, I told him what happened. He became really angry, and drove down to the neighbor's yard to get the horse.

  When he got back he was even madder. After he put the horse in the corral, he came across the yard, grabbed the puppy, and tied his leash to a clothesline post. I didn't know what he was going to do. I was sitting on the front step of the house. I told him it wasn't the puppy's fault, but I didn't say anything else because I'd never seen him so angry.

  “He walked around the side of the house, and I couldn't see him for a while. I thought he was going somewhere. But a few seconds later he came back around carrying a steel pipe.”

  At this point Patricia's lips began to quiver. She was straggling to control her emotions. “And, and then,” she stuttered, “he started hitting the puppy with the pipe. I screamed, but I couldn't do anything. The puppy was crying, but he just kept hitting him. I didn't know what to do. He was so mad. I ran into the house and hid in my room. But I could still hear the noises. So I just put my hands over my ears and cried and cried.”

  Tears now flowing down her face, Patricia began to shake. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I saw only a terrified little girl, traumatized by what she had witnessed. Choking on a burning lump in my throat, I clutched her hand tightly.

  “Oh God, please!” I found myself silently begging for the strength to remain in control. At that moment, I couldn't even imagine how awful this would be. But Patricia's horror wasn't over, far from it.