“V,” I announce, feeling eager, but a bit naive. “I’ve just gotten a premonition. It’s coming through presence, of course. But I’m wondering how that works. Premonition’s are about the future; presence is always in the Now.”
“The Now is always in the future.”
“What?” I blurt out. “That goes against everything you…”
“I’m joking. But in a way, I’m not. The Now is in fact the future; it is likewise the past. All time is a projection of the one timeless moment. The so-called ‘future’ is held in the bosom of the divine unknown. This is the power of destiny and creation, the power of ‘beginning again’. It is the closest thing to future that really exists, this potentiality of presence.
“You asked about how premonitions work. It is simple. There is no such thing as ‘time’ in reality. There is only what is known and what is unknown within the eternal moment. A foretelling of events to come is merely the unknown revealing itself, of becoming gradually known. It all happens within the Now. Your mind applies the notion of time and then pictures the unknown as a thing of the future.”
V pauses for a moment, then says, “Now, tell me about your premonition.”
“Oh yeah, that,” I chuckle. “I almost forgot. This is funny because you and I both have said that we write these messages spontaneously. Most often, we don’t see what’s coming until we begin typing it down. Well, in this case it’s different; I have already seen what we will be writing.”
“Yes, I see,” she replies. Tell me. And by the way, I have had the same portent as you. Let’s compare notes.”
“I’m not surprised,” I add. “We are synchronizing our awareness more and more—just like O and me. I’m guessing we’re getting ready for that incarnation together in Paris. In fact, that was part of my premonition.”
“You’re guessing right. Now tell me what you saw.”
“I sensed—in a dream this morning—that we would be writing more about presence—particularly, how it can orchestrate our lives. This seems like the culmination of all you’ve been saying about the Life of Source. Then, in another vision, I saw you and me paying a brief visit to Paris and meeting Omis there. I also saw that we would all go the Hall of Memories, the Akasha, and find the crystal vesica.”
“Anything else?” V asks.
“Yes, one more thing: I sensed that Omis would take over the narration of the final chapters.”
She laughs. “I can see my role here is about finished. You are getting almost everything I am. And you’re able to describe it in your own words. This, of course, has been the destiny all along. Presence is moving us all into this point. May presence have its way with us.”
She pauses for a moment of stillness. “Well, why don’t we get on with your dream? Come into my sub-dimension and we can do a little traveling together.” She encourages, “Like the old days.”
“What should I do?”
“Have you forgotten so soon? The ‘old days’ weren’t that long ago,” she chides, in good humor. “Simply step in.”
I close my eyes and imagine V or B, as I used to see her. The first thing I see is her long white hair, flowing against a dark background. Slowly her face emerges from the darkness and I realize that her robes are part of the dark setting. They twinkle subtly, with occasional atomic sparks.
As I look on, the darkness dissolves into a world, gradually becoming more familiar to my eyes. V is standing on a Parisian street. I recognize it as one of my favorite Montmartre lanes, la Rue de l’Abreuvoir, that curves down from the summit on the north side to the little Place Dalida. I’m delighted to be here.
Before my eyes, V and B swiftly transform into a new image, that of Breanne, my future mother. Now I’m standing with her, and I transform as well. I’m shrinking down into the body of my future incarnation, Phileina—two hundred years from now. The only way I am able to accept these changes in my surroundings, and indeed in myself, is to question nothing. If my mind were to intervene here everything would be lost. Something in me—the other awareness—holds the questioning—and doubt—at bay. It exerts a special power that is almost never apparent in my 21st Century lifetime.
Now, even more strangely, I realize that my young girl’s body has changed too. It is no longer the ten-year old I knew last time. She is older—a young woman in her twenties. I glance down and see a flowing blue pants-gown down to my knees. I am wearing thin, graceful sandals. The material of the suit is a silky cotton substance, light and soft. I touch it and move my hands to my face, feeling the long hair over my shoulders.
My voice still manages to speak, “Well, V, this is interesting. I didn’t expect it. Are you still here with me? Or are you simply Breanne now?”
The older woman—my mother—answers, “We are joined as one this time. It is a serious adjustment for us all—believe me. Phileina is the most surprised. You will no doubt feel this.”
“I do, but I am being held in some kind of suspended judgment. My mind is not reacting.” I feel myself in two bodies at once, two minds at once, speaking with two voices. My own reaction is shaky enough, but Phileina is also nonplussed. It all adds up to a strange situation.
“That is just as well,” Breanne continues. “Let’s take a moment to drink it all in. In fact, that gives me an inspiration. Come down the street with me. Here!”
She leads us down beside the old cobblestone lane. “There’s a little shrine here called the Crèche de l’Abreuvoir.” My mind jumps in, along with Phileina’s. Literally, this translates as the ‘nursery of the watering trough’. Drink it in, indeed.
Breanne explains, “There used to be a daycare center here for young children; before that, historically, the place was used to provide water for animals—an abreuvoir. The street was named for it. These historical uses will have left some residual energy we can tap into.”
We follow her down the road for a few meters and watch until she stops. The ‘shrine’ is nothing more than a bronze plaque in the sidewalk. I stare briefly at it as she takes my hands—her daughter’s hands. Instantly energies swirl around and up from the marker. I can only describe it as a ‘childish’ energy, full of innocence—as a young mind might look at the world in eagerness for understanding.
“C’est merveilleux, maman,” Phileina gasps. “J’ai marché par ici une centaine de fois…I’ve walked this way a hundred times and never knew it was here.”
“La crèche a toujours patientée pour toi—pour nous tous…It has been waiting for you—for us all—until this moment. How refreshing it feels now. These little shrines are everywhere in Paris, you know, ready to be tapped for their characteristic energy.”
Phileina breathes in, like drinking the sweet air. She sighs, “So, why are our other incarnations here now again? It’s a pleasant surprise, but rather unusual.”
“I had a hunch something like this would happen soon. I was aware that your training would call it forth. It is time for your appreciation to move to a new level.”
I look through the eyes of Phileina as she contemplates this news. I am in her mind, as her mind now. We are thinking as one. My wits are quickened. I’m vigilan again. I am human again, she retorts playfully in ‘our’ mind. Together we laugh inwardly.
I feel a sudden knowing sweep into me, and say to Breanne with a serious note, “I have just seen that there is death with us today. My own past self is joined here by means of its passage through death. I am remembering that passage quite clearly.”
“Go on,” urges my future mother.
I slowly step over against the fence of the small garden, out of the way of people passing. Phileina speaks, “Curiously, his death is deepening my own feelings of aliveness and Life. I see the scene of it nearly two hundred years ago, like a recent memory.”
Breanne nods and encourages me to go on, “Continue, cherie.”
I see the image clearly. “It is a warm, sunny afternoon; a small group of friends and family has just dispersed. I am lying alone next to a bright window. Beautiful, spring trees rustle in the breeze outside. A great, profound silence sweeps up all around me—like the silence of the Cosmos rising from a still small space. My body is greatly weakened, of course, and entirely ready to reach its end. I am at peace and not uncomfortable. Truly, I have never felt such ‘comfort’ in this body ever before.
“The light through the window slowly grows much more intense. It seems to come out of the trees and reach into the room to surround me, focusing on my passing form. My body begins to vibrate, as though the light is triggering molecular action. All cells are on high alert. They shake and tremble in anticipation of release. Each cell and molecule knows it is being asked to ‘give up the ghost’ that has resided within them for the lifetime.”
Breanne looks intensely into my eyes; those eyes captivate me utterly. In them, I can see the identical force that Black and V possess. The vision from the past is as clear as the street scene around us. The two, animated images are superimposed for me in one time. The trees in this little Parisian garden are radiating the same bright, light, carrying the vision to my mind. Phileina continues excitedly, “I am the ghost in those molecules and cells. I am the ghost that now lives within this form, 200 years later. It’s the same spirit that moves through all my lifetimes. It is a saint esprit, holy ghost.”
If only the old religions had truly known how simple and free and common this spirit is, I reflect.
Breanne finally speaks, “What is death then, ma fille? Are you seeing into it in this vision?”
I pause and allow the question to draw out information for me. “Death is the key to knowing all passages, all transitions and all momentum. Of course, all those moments are truly just one moment. All passages are but one passage. All deaths are but one death!”
Breanne asks, “Now what does that mean? Let my question take you into the depths. Use the energy of this crèche—nursery—to illuminate your understanding.”
I stop and close my eyes, feeling the innocence and freshness radiate up from below, out of the etheric time capsule planted on this little Paris street. The energy swells within and out of me into the space. The spaciousness itself is now the teacher. It echoes my mother’s words, What does the Oneness of death mean?
In the death scene from the past, I feel my body let go—molecule by molecule. Strangely, from my human perspective, this is still in the future. My ghost rises up and out, but not physically. I’m leaving the physical dimension and entering the light dimension. I’m absorbing into the brilliance. The trees are participating with this transition. They are angels, light beings, spirit embodiments ready to lend their presence to this transition event. They rejoice at the opportunity to participate in this release from form. I realize what advanced beings the trees actually are!
My spirit flows naturally into the ethers, swirling gently in a ghostly breeze that blows up from Source itself; it blows up out of the Void. Death has delivered me to the edge of the Void; but truly, it has delivered the Void to me. I hover in a peaceful ecstasy, soaking up the power from below. My weakened physical form lies still, but I am now feeling enormous energy and total presence. All awareness is arrayed dazzlingly before me. I see that all my past and future are mere glittery tokens adorning this grand Moment. I am Now. This is what the oneness of death means!
I speak now with the ‘unknown’ as my muse, “Death reveals our identity with Life and Source and Void. All identity is one identity. Even the human predicament of ‘identification-with-form’ is an aspect this true identity. All mistakes and revelations, throughout history, lead us inexorably on to the true identity. It is the authenticity of Oneness, concealed for safe keeping inside the ‘many-ness’. I feel there is a deeper secret even, buried here. I am yet to learn it.”
“Do not force it, dear daughter,” Breanne assures me. “It will be a seed-link for you as your lifetimes here and beyond unfold. It is the secret of passages, presence and transposition. Here today you have aligned with a grand destiny that will take you into a far-flung adventure over many lifetimes.”
Staring into Breanne’s eyes, I vision the adventure yet to unfold for Phileina, in the life and letters of O. Then I dissolve into the blackness. I realize I’m falling into the dark robes of V. Falling, falling, gently down.
ⓒ 2014 Robert Lee Potter
CLICK HERE and you will find all the chapters posted from Life of Source. I will be updating each week with new chapters till we reach the end of the book. It will then be available for download from this site. Stay Tuned…
Letters From 500 