Eyes of an Angel Page 26

  J: Yes. Definitely. Most definitely, and somebody already got this message intuitively. Somebody has had either a dream or an awareness of the other person and what is actually going on. So somebody actually has all the information ... one of these two people. Have you talked to either one of them about it?

  I was shaking. How could she have possibly picked up on Candace's dream? This was too unbelievable. I had to clear my throat before replying.

  P: Well, we only joked about it. I wouldn't have believed it.

  J: Well, there have definitely been lifetimes between everybody involved here. It's been quite intense, actually. I'm not getting a very pleasant time on some of these lives. There's some sense of a rift somewhere between the two females, but somebody already knows this. It's like one of them has had a dream scenario that relates to that. Somebody has the full information. It feels like your wife might be the one.

  There's an awareness of what exactly went on, and they may be in some denial about it. And there's some ego struggle here too. But yeah, there is an awareness and it will heal a lot of things between these two people.

  There were some tough times, at least in one lifetime between these two, and it wasn't always pleasant. This is interesting, though; I get that they were both males.

  I get that a lot of healing goes on between these two energies that's meant to happen. This is fascinating. But you have to have patience. Over the next six months there seems to be a complete death and rebirth in this whole situation that seems to be quite different than anyone thinks. I get a lot of letting go of guilt and fear. A sense of humor is necessary in this situation, and diplomacy on all sides. And you're right in the middle of it all, again.

  With those final words, Janine ended the reading. In a dazed state, I thanked her for the session. It was, without doubt, the most remarkable display of psychic intuition I had ever witnessed.

  Candace was waiting for me as I opened the door and made my way back into the bookstore. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You look like you've just seen a ghost. How was your reading?”

  I managed only a bewildered shrug. “You won't believe it,” I whispered. “Wait until you hear the tape.”

  During our long drive home, we listened to the recording at least three times. Amazed by Janine's accuracy, we talked for hours about the changes taking place in our lives. There was no question about it: we both shared a renewed reverence and respect for the mysteries of life.

  15

  Affirmation

  If it's proof you seek, there's no denying

  The truth is only found in dying

  But in search of God, and where to begin

  You need look no further than within

  If there is one thing that I've come to realize over time, it is the more I learn, the more convinced I am how precious little I actually know.

  If someone had told me just ten years ago that I would become immersed in a life of spirituality, I would have suggested they go for a drug test. But now I couldn't imagine anything better.

  Friends often ask if I have any idea why all of these astonishing things have happened to me. The simple answer is, “I haven't got a clue.” It would seem that I must have planned it this way. Or, it could be that—as two different psychics suggested years ago—I had set out a special goal to accomplish in this lifetime, but I was procrastinating, allowing self-doubt and insecurity to defeat my purpose. At the time I had no idea what they were talking about. Perhaps because of my procrastination, my guides and helpers decided to put Plan B into action—the one where they virtually had to hit me over the head to get my attention; the one where I had to be dragged kicking and screaming into territory and beliefs I would not have otherwise accepted. I'm still not sure, but one thing is for certain: I'm forever grateful that they did.

  So many inconceivable occurrences have taken place around me that I've come to expect the unexpected. Candace and I often marveled at the steady progression of events and experiences that had been presented to us. There were many times when I couldn't wait for a new day to begin, just to see what would happen next. We were on a remarkable journey, but shortly after we returned from the visit to the Tarot reader, another unexpected piece of the puzzle fell into place.

  As winter finally gave way to spring, we looked forward to warmer weather and green grass. While surfing on the Internet we accidentally discovered a place known as the Omega Institute. Located in a beautiful rural area of upstate New York, it was a former boys' camp renovated and updated to provide a large multi-use facility. Advertised as a center for holistic studies, Omega offers a wide variety of spiritual workshops and seminars hosted by many famous authors and teachers.

  While Candace and I perused their web site, one particular class caught our attention. Billed as a workshop on soul survival, it was a weekend seminar slated for mid-May. To our delight, one of the main presenters was a favorite author of ours. A prominent psychiatrist, Dr. Brian Weiss had written several best-selling books on the subject of reincarnation and past-life regression. The list included Many Lives Many Masters, Through Time into Healing, Only Love is Real, and Messages from the Masters. Thinking it would be a wonderful opportunity for a fun weekend, we registered for the workshop and booked our airline tickets.

  Omega was everything it promised to be and more. We had a great time listening to the various presentations, but it was Brian Weiss that we had come to see. With his quiet, modest demeanor, Dr. Weiss was every bit the gentle soul we expected him to be. Speaking softly about the importance of love, he radiated genuine caring and trustworthiness. He seemed to practice what he preached.

  As part of his presentation, Dr. Weiss announced that he would guide the audience in a group hypnosis session to explore any important past lives that might surface. Even though I had developed a few of my own methods to help others through hypnosis, I personally had very little success in being hypnotized. I'm not sure if I blocked the experience for fear of losing control, but it never seemed to work for me.

  The chairs we sat in were comfortable, but I always needed absolute silence to achieve an altered state. With over three hundred people in the room, I expected to be continually distracted by people coughing, clearing their throats, and shuffling about. I didn't give it much chance for success.

  Beginning the session with his standard induction into deepening relaxation, Dr. Weiss's soft hypnotic voice lulled the crowd into an eerie expectant silence. I found myself becoming deeply relaxed. Within a short time, I began to notice that his voice was becoming more and more distant, drifting out of my perception. I tried to focus on his fading instructions, but to no avail. Soon there was only silence. My mind awake and alert, I slowly lost all awareness of my body.

  Time seemed to stand still. I was lost in my thoughts when I became aware of small jolts of electricity stabbing through my body. My muscles reacted in jerky spasms. Lasting for only seconds, as quickly as the jolts began, they faded away. I started to feel a mounting pressure closing in on me. It was as if my own consciousness was somehow compressing into a small ball. Moments later, I found myself looking down into the top of a bright, golden chalice.

  Momentarily bewildered, it took me a few seconds to steady my mind. It seemed as if I was the one holding the chalice. Swirling in the bottom was a small quantity of red wine. It was then that I heard the distinct Latin dialogue of a Catholic Mass. The words echoed around me. I could feel them in my mind and in my mouth—they were my words. J was saying them. I seemed to be inside the body of a Catholic priest in the middle of a communion service.

  Holding the chalice in my left hand, I watched as my right hand came to rest above the goblet holding a thin, round, white wafer between my index finger and thumb. Who and where was I? I wanted to lift my head to look around the room, but was unable to do so. I saw only what this priest saw as he ceremonially lifted the chalice into the air holding the communion wafer above it. His eyes followed the wafer as he mouthed the memorized words. But his heart and
mind wandered, drifting far away—preoccupied.

  Focusing more closely on his thoughts and feelings, I became increasingly gripped by an overwhelming crush of hopelessness. I could hardly breathe. It felt like my heart was breaking—and I wanted to know why.

  In response to my query, myriad memories instantly downloaded into my conscious mind. For several intense moments I was besieged by an onslaught of emotions. The emotional weight this priest carried was almost unbearable. His heart and, indeed, his very life, lay in the clutches of anguish and despair.

  Although this understanding was almost instantly perceived, I'm not sure any words could adequately describe the intensity of the moment. As nearly as I can relate it, this is the story that unfolded in my mind.

  Processing his thoughts and memories, I understood the reasons for his, or should I say my, desperation. When he/I was a young man, I had fallen helplessly in love with a young woman from a nearby village. We had planned to be married. Our families, however, did not approve of the relationship. I was Catholic and she was Protestant. Finally, due to family pressure, she had broken off the relationship, leaving me in heartbroken desolation. I couldn't imagine how I could possibly live without her. In my grief, I had allowed myself to be talked into leaving the village to join the priesthood.

  As these thoughts unraveled, I would catch short intriguing glimpses of a young woman. There seemed to be something familiar about her. Focusing on her energy, a complete image began to form in my mind. The recognition stunned me. It was she! It was the woman I had seen in my dreams, the same woman who had come to me in spirit form while I lay in my bunk at The Monroe Institute.

  I followed the chain of events unfolding before me. Several years had passed, and by chance, our paths crossed again. From our first encounter in the streets, our obsession was rekindled. Even though she was now married and I was a priest, we could not resist the temptation of our hearts. We would steal away in secrecy, allowing our passions to carry us to forbidden ecstasy, swearing our undying love.

  All of these memories and thoughts flooded into my mind in hardly more than a heartbeat. It was both an instant revelation, and an inner knowing.

  Shifting my awareness back to the priest, I felt a numbing despair slowly choking away my life. Continuing mechanically through the ceremony of the Holy Sacrament, I fought for control against the tears of self-pity that burned my eyes, scorching my soul. The guilt of my sin was too much to bear. I had doomed myself to the fires of Hell. As a priest, I found my sin unforgivable. I was trapped between the aching of my heart and the guilt I felt at betraying my church and God. It was all so unfair. Why had I let myself be talked into becoming a priest? Why had she come back into my life?

  My dilemma and torment were inescapable. I would be condemned by the church and most certainly by God. In the agony of my guilt, I knew that it would be impossible for us to be together. But I also knew I could no longer live without her.

  Suddenly, with a resounding thump, I found myself snapping upright in my chair. The abrupt explosion of another participant coughing directly behind me was all it took to catapult me out of my hypnotic state. Just like that, the vision disappeared.

  Frustrated but undeterred I quickly concentrated on reconnecting with this previous life's energy. Within moments I was again floating in a void. Frantically, I tried to home in on the priest's vibration. Minutes ticked by. Then, without warning, I felt my consciousness plummet, and a dizzying burst of energy overtook me. Finally, the darkness evaporated, and I found myself back in the priest's body. Again I felt his crushing desolation and despair.

  As my vision opened, I was surprised to find that I was no longer in the middle of the church service. I was outdoors, staring off into distant rolling hills of blue-green grass. My heart was breaking—I seemed to be saying goodbye.

  Finally, with tears in my eyes, I spun around. The next thing I knew I was plunging over the edge of a cliff to the rocks and sea below. The shock and sensation of falling was so powerful and frightening, it snapped me out of my trance. In an instant I found myself jerking upright in my chair, my hands clawing the air in front of me.

  Opening my eyes, I was thankful the room lay in semidarkness. The session was still underway. No one had seen my nailing arms.

  Lost in thought, I sat quietly in my seat waiting for the session to end. The room had been cool, but now I felt sweat trickling down my neck. The powerful scenes played over and over in my mind. I had been a priest who committed suicide. But more importantly, I now knew who the woman was, why I had seen her in my dreams, and why she had come to me in my room at The Monroe Institute.

  My sense was that this experience had taken place somewhere in Ireland at least a hundred years ago. Yet, as unbelievable as it seemed, it appeared that my long-lost love was still on the Other Side, apparently still in love, and awaiting my return.

  The disturbing episode left me with a jumble of emotions. Torn between the sorrow of this tragic affair and the elation of my discovery, an uneasy melancholy settled over me. There were still too many unresolved issues, too many questions left unanswered. I realized that it might be some time before I could come to terms with the effects of this revelation.

  When the session ended, Candace and I shared our experiences. We marveled at the power of the workshop. Dr. Weiss had truly developed a remarkable technique for uncovering the past to heal the present.

  Following our return home from New York, I frequently reflected on the extraordinary events that had taken place, and how they might affect my life. I thought about the young woman I had left behind in another lifetime, and wondered what became of her after my self-inflicted death. One night, about a month later, I had my answer.

  As I lay in bed waiting for sleep, fragmentary thoughts about that distant past life in Ireland haunted me. When the hypnagogic images of presleep began to flutter through my mind, I offered a little prayer and again asked my angels to show me what had become of the woman. I had posed the question a number of times before without receiving any kind of response, but this time I seemed more connected.

  Within moments of sending out the question, I felt a shift in vibration and in an instant I found myself floating near the ceiling of a rather spacious older home. Wherever it was, the owners must have been fairly well-to-do. Although not overly large, the living room was ornately decorated, containing a large stone fireplace and expensive furnishings. Feeling drawn to the next room, I floated through the wall into an adjacent bedroom. As I came through the other side, my attention was drawn to the body of a woman laid out on top of a bed. I knew instantly that it was the woman I had loved during my life as a priest. A feeling of sadness came over me. I somehow knew that she, too, had taken her own life.

  Her long dark hair had been done up in ringlets, meticulously placed on the pillow beneath her to accentuate her ashen but serene face. I contemplated how different she now looked without her normal color, vitality, and beaming eyes.

  Laid out on the bed in a beautiful long gown, she still exhibited grace and elegance. Crossed upon her chest, her hands cradled a small golden cross. Her rich, royal blue gown was accented by white and gold lace around the neck and sleeves. Obviously designed for a funeral wake, its long skirt flared out at the bottom, extending past her feet, over the foot of the bed, almost to the floor.

  With mixed emotions, I hovered in place, absorbed in the scene, when I became aware of the strangest feelings. Thoughts of Patricia began to permeate my mind. There was no question that the woman on the bed was the one I had loved in that previous lifetime, but I was also receiving strong impressions of Patricia. Their vibrations seemed so much alike. As my confusion grew, I felt a shift in consciousness and I was back in my bed.

  Opening my eyes, I lay back, staring at the ceiling, contemplating all that had taken place. Although the journey had given me some answers, it had created just as many questions. Why had I been receiving impressions of Patricia? Was there some sort of connection between the two
of them? Could they actually be from the same soul energy? It didn't seem possible. If Patricia was the reincarnated energy of the woman from Ireland, how could she still be on the Other Side in her previous form? The questions hung in the air, but the answers weren't evident. Eventually I fell asleep.

  When morning arrived, I awoke with the answers still beyond my grasp. “Someday,” I thought, “I'll get to the bottom of it, even if I have to die trying.” The irony of this sleepy statement made me chuckle. It occurred to me that it might indeed be the only way I'd uncover the rest of the story.

  While the lessons of my life slowly unfolded, time itself was quickly passing. I had a job to do. After months, perhaps years, of procrastination, I could put it off no longer. I sat down to begin the long task of writing this book.

  I wish I could say that writing has been an easy job, that my angels came through as they said they would in the Washington airport. But that might be stretching it a wee bit. To begin with, I wasn't even sure where to begin.

  As I started going through my journals containing years of notes, it became not so much a question of whether I had enough material for the book, but rather what would I leave out. The easiest part was the title. I already knew that. But there were so many revelations, incidents, and insights. How could I pick and choose?

  After mapping out a chapter outline, I did the next best thing. I lay in bed, opened my consciousness to the Other Side, and asked for help. Within moments, I felt a wave of energy—and the download began. It was like a floodgate had opened. Practically overwhelmed by the flow of information, I realized that if I was already overloading while in an altered state, I had little hope of processing everything during normal consciousness. The angels, however, were probably more aware of what I could handle than I was. As I came out of my meditation, their message was clear. Before each writing session, I was to open myself to guidance, taking it one step at a time.