Little Man

It's that time of year again. After a long period of time spent indoors, bringing in all kinds of different energy I've picked up each time I leave our house, I feel the need to cleanse and clear. It is rather intuitive. I can go for long stretches of time without cleansing our home of energy I don't  want...and then one day it will become all too obvious that a cleansing is required.

But not all energy will be disbursed.

Yesterday, watching the Winter Olympics on television, I glanced over to the side...and there was a figure sitting on my coffee table. Now, people rarely sit on the table, and I frowned a little when I 'saw' him.


I knew he wasn't physically there. I was alone in the house. Not even our two Dogs were inside...they had each just been given a very juicy bone and were outside, enjoying their chew.  I looked away from the figure, shaking my head and raising my eyebrows.


Long time readers will know I sometimes see energy manifestations of beings who have long left this plane of existence. At least, I believe they have. I might be a little startled when they appear, but I rarely become frightened or annoyed...there's not much I can do about the appearances, after all.


On this particular day I had promised myself after certain chores were done, I would enjoy a cup of Tea and watch a bit of the Games. And after I had tidied up, this is exactly what I did.

When I watch the Games, it is usually in an excited, breathless manner. I experience each event, it strikes me, as if I were the competitor. So there was certainly heightened tension and anxiety present.


And that was when, in the peripheral part of my sight, I saw the little man.


Dressed in a plaid flannel shirt, he sat on the edge of the table, with clasped hands in his lap, and smiled at me. This particular figure has visited quite often; there is only a smidgen of startled response on my part when he appears now.


I looked away, half-hoping he would disappear as quickly as he had appeared. But I couldn't help glancing back...and there he was, still. Still sitting quietly, still looking at me with a twinkle in his eye and a crooked smile on his round, creased face, grey crinkly-curly hair forming a halo.


I could only see him if I looked sideways.  If I looked at the space where his energy signature was straight on, I couldn't see him, although I felt him. It's a strange, rather disturbing thing...I find it difficult to describe. It was rather like a hologram, I think, though I don't know much about them.

I was comfortable, huddled there on the couch with my cup of Tea. I did not want to get up or be disturbed by an entity who insists on visiting at times of comfort such as this. The last time I saw him before this day was when I stood in the warm Sun rays on the deck; he came around the corner of the house, again with that confounded smile, directly towards me, walking slightly bent over and with a limp.


At the time, he completely ruined my peace of mind, my quiet, my wanting to just be there in those warm, sunny rays streaming from the glass doors. I turned and entered the house, knowing even as I did so his figure had disappeared.


I was not quite comfortable enough with him, then, to have a conversation, if such a thing were possible. But I believe we are coming to a Time where contact using all the senses can occur with beings or manifestations from another plane...is this man a precursor?

It is getting to the point where I will feel able to ask his name the next time he appears, if I can get past the startled response. I don't know why I feel the need to have a name...it makes the whole scenario more real, perhaps.


He has appeared in dreams, actually...It suddenly comes to mind I do have the occasional dream about him. This is why he feels and looks so familiar. This makes me believe he is a guide, who has decided to manifest himself before me.


I have met my guides, during long, deep meditations. Some, during mundane hours, fade. Others stay quite brilliant. But at certain times, I will feel an upsurge of energy...a rapid coursing of breathtaking effervescence running through my body. And I recognize it completely...it is how I feel during conversations with my guides. Very uplifting.


I thought I had met them all. But the little man with the limp and the rim of curly greyish hair may be someone who has stayed out of my vision, until now.

Perhaps I will need his guidance in the near future. Perhaps I am to become familiar with him before I need him...


His is a reassuring presence...


And even if he interrupted a mogul event, and even as my Tea grew cold as I pondered his appearance, which only lasted a few moments...


Even if all those things are taken into account...


His is still a very welcome presence.

And not one to be disbursed.

Spirits

When we first moved here, quite often I would notice movement and sometimes actual figures in the near periphery of the boxes I was attempting to unpack. I felt no fear of these strange sightings, or powerless...but I remember wondering who they all were. And why were they converging on me?


Most were dressed in old-fashioned clothing...I recall one in particular who wore what appeared to be tan coloured canvas pants, thick brown boots, and a heavy, woollen brown coat.  He was bent under a backpack tied to his back, and he carried a long, wooden stick...I can see him in my mind's eye now, as I write this.


He smiled at me when he appeared, for only a few moments. I smiled back. There seemed to be little else I could do...

But I was left shaking my head in wonder and awe, as his figure disappeared from sight. And eventually, I took the sightings for what they were...a true welcome to a part of the country I had not even visited before.


At the beginning, there was a flurry of sightings.  After a bit, these began to fade and it became rare to catch a glimpse of these amorphous Spirits.

And so I felt perhaps the sightings were over, although I still continued to be conscious there were Spirits about. Even for the Cariboo,where wildlife is abundant, I managed to connect with an amazing number of wild animals.


And quite often, those animals did strange things, things uncharacteristic of a wild animal's behaviour. Each and every occurrence left me awestruck. I noticed my faith...my belief in a Universal connection to all beings...becoming stronger, even more deeply entrenched.


There are signs throughout the property of someone practicing their spirituality. Boulders in certain areas, within well-defined circles of smaller Stones, are palpable in their energy which radiates outward with great warmth towards the receiver.


I have found small Stones placed on stumps or Rocks. I feel, because of their placement, they denote East and West, North and South. Beyond this, what each Stone represents is left to the imagination and sure knowledge.


With the big, tall Fir trees surrounding our home, it feels like a natural cathedral, especially when Sun eases his long fingers into the Forest and caresses each branch...lighting it from within. It is very easy for me to see how there may have been ceremonies, ancient or otherwise, here, then...

I am not the only one, here in this home, who senses other beings. Our two Dogs become strangely cowed when a visitor(s) manifests. I know they see him/her; I have not, so far, other than very early on.


Nate, for example, has his experiences on a certain portion of the deck.  There are times when he will not pass a very innocuous looking few feet, to come towards me. He becomes completely cowed, very anxious and whines desperately, all the while looking towards something in a totally abject way.


Not even a biscuit will make him pass that spot.

Lucky will,  on some mornings when I awake, have anxiety and worry written all over him. On those mornings, Nate will look at me with deep thankfulness the dark night is through.  And after I am up and about, they will settle and sleep for the rest of the day...unusual behaviour in itself.


It is as if they guard us on some nights; I can only imagine who they see...but I can feel leftover energy on those mornings.


The Spirits' energies are benevolent for the most part, but I have sensed there may be some which are not. And these are the ones who will make me smudge later in the day.

And there is a space on this property I do not like. It is dark, dank even on the hottest day. My main impression of it is one of blackness...I barely see the tall, thin Trees which attempt to grow there. For the most part, I avoid it. Better to leave it be.



As time goes by, I hope to have more experiences, here, on this magical Land. Each one is miraculous, each one has its own special blessings.

I am, in particular, looking forward to Hallowe'en, when the veil between planes of existence is thinner than usual. Who will make their energy felt this weekend?



My beliefs are not mainstream. I am grateful for the opportunity to live a life which shows me, on an everyday basis, my practice of spirituality is right for me... and with that, I am the recipient of an inner calm and peace.


For the most part. 


Chasing bad Spirits away from our Dogs can tend to chip away at that peace, a bit!

Musing With Stones

When I first arrived here, in the Cariboo and on this property, I wondered if I would ever find the deep connection I have had to other lands in the past.

There were no gardens here.  And in hindsight, this was a very good thing.
 

In order to feel the Spirit of the land, I had to work with it.  I worked with Stones and Boulders this time, noting the gargoyles and mischievous elves on the faces of the Stones. I walked the excavated earth; I noted which Stones I wanted...and then I picked them up (or in some cases, rolled them) and put them in their new places.

Each time I did this, I noted a pleasant feeling, a feeling of rightness and peace, deep in my soul. It was strong and very grounding.


I picked up a few favourite Stones the other day.  I placed them along the railing of the Deck, in order to sense their special energy a little more often than some I work with.

Large Boulder is easier for me to sense than these much smaller ones. He has become a confidante; the other day I sensed a bolt of his warm energy that quite took me aback. It is time, I think, to visit him a little more often, which will be much easier to do with the undergrowth melted away with the oncoming Winter's strong Wind.


His energy is much the same as Grandfather Tree has.  I am grateful to have found Large Boulder...to have him receive my latest joys and woes, sending them back to me with a slower, easier perspective.


The anxiety the financial Winds have carried lately seep away when I work with Stones.  Stones have stories to tell of the past and predictions of the future, if I listen well and with strong awareness.

The uppermost message I receive is all is exactly as it should be, here, today and now. The World is changing, I hear, and it is a process.  In order to get from here to there takes time and great energy...blasting through a wall sometimes causes greater shredding destruction than long, slow curves around it.


And I hear them counsel patience...a trait I seem to have been born without...I hear them remind me of the youth of the World who already demonstrate a different way.  I am reminded of the power youth has. I was one, once, in an earlier time...


Musing with Stones as an ally takes time.  Stones tell their stories, sometimes with great sonorous sighs, slowly. It does no good to hurry them.


But I come away with a great sense of Hope.  Indeed, youngsters are now being taught to honour the Earth and her bounty. Much more than I ever was.


Working with these Stones is an opportunity I can experience here, on this gravelly, hilly property. There is no lack of them; they seem to move around on their own, sometimes. And at other times, a Stone will resist being moved...if it does not want to move easily, I leave them be.


It is an opportunity to know Stone's energy, living here...being propelled here. There is a reason for it.


And all I have to do is have Patience.  


And Hope.




Note: These photos of Grandson Graydon were taken by Granddaughter Bree, a talented photographer in her own right.

Hawks and Gardens

After a few nights of Frost making his hoary appearance, what was left of the garden requires some tender care. It's time to put the garden to bed.

I didn't buy any bulbs this year; perhaps I still have time. The later I put them in the beds, however, the later in the season blooms appear. Last year, I placed a few leftover Daffodil bulbs in the ground in February. They bloomed in July...pretty, but long past the time when their compatriots were singing Spring's song.

But what a beautiful day it was yesterday! Sun shone in a brilliant blue bowl. Leaves glowed golden against that heartbreakingly blue backdrop. It felt very spiritual; it was as if I was being visited by Spirits, who, as they sat on branches, lit the whole Tree with their golden light.

I rake leaves. These leaves look like jewels spilling out of a treasure chest, so bright with their Autumn plumage, it seems a shame to rake them into piles. But I need a blanket around some plants this year; I need the nourishment Leaf mulch applies to the soil. And the soil will also benefit from the Earthworms that will proliferate, as the Leaves break down.

It is rhythmic, raking...and as I go, I meditate...letting free flowing thoughts drift through my mind. Regular raking and Bird song, the crackle of the dry Leaves, the distant sound of a Soccer game in progress at the Park, with a deep grounding in the Earth, my feet planted firmly in the wet Lawn...it was what my Heart needed...

A comforting blanket of Leaves, one that will restore and balance me.

I hear the chittering of our newest resident...Squirrel. It seems to me his raison d'etre is to drive the Dogs into a frenzy. I can hear him laugh at them, way down on the ground, leaping and barking, trying so hard to reach this terrible threat to our safety.

I continue raking; the Dogs are easily worn out, as maturity finds its way into their being, and will soon resume dozing in Sun's warmth...still palpable, even in November.

I know I will have to rake again; there are many Leaves still clinging to branches, awaiting the arrival of another Wind Storm.

And so, after the beds are covered, I drag a few branches, trimmed from the Trees, out to be picked up by the Town's chipping crew. As I do, I notice, as any Gardener will, another chore that requires doing...and another...and oh, yes, over there!

But I take time out, to visualize and plan the new fence enclosure we are thinking of attempting some time soon. We will continue the fence line and enclose the garden shed and the recycling shed, with entry by large gates Graham is planning to build. It will give us much more space.

And much more room to garden.

There will be a Fruit tree...and perhaps a Nut tree, over there by the Hawthorn. I'm sure Squirrel would approve of that! And I plan to grow Sunflowers all along the fence line, which will give them support, as they nod their leonine golden heads at passersby.

I wander to where four potted plants have endured a Winter and a Summer, growing roots, becoming strong enough to take on the Rocky, Clay and Sand mixture of the top part of the garden.

I have promised them a home this Autumn. But I know the soil here is hard, unforgiving. I will have to amend it, with some sea soil I have left. And yet...these youngsters will have a difficult time of it, with their roots fighting Rock and Clay.

I have time to ponder whether I can even dig these holes. I may need a pick...and another pair of hands, another body.

I sense, rather than see, another presence with me, as I walk to where I left the shovel. And then the visiting vibrations become too strong to ignore...and I turn to see Hawk staring at me from the Berry structure.

He was young and curious. I held my breath...he was not far from me...I wanted to look at him, this youngster, as long as possible. He was very interested in me, as well...it still takes me aback as I discover animals are just as curious about humans as we are in them.

The staring match ended as he flew towards the forested area, and I was left smiling to myself. Hawk has only begun to show up with consistent regularity during the last few years. I have always held these Birds in awe; it is a comfort to have them with me.

As I begin to dig, scraping at the Rocks and scant Soil with my shovel, I hear a strange Bird call...an out of the ordinary Bird call. I lift my head, and there...just above me, on a utility wire, sits another Hawk.

And this one is a fully fledged adult...a Red Tail.

There are no mistakes, in this Universe, and so I stopped and leaned on my shovel, looking at his beauty, drinking in his Energy. His piercing gaze skimmed over me, his head never still, yet intuitively, I knew that he was aware of every minute particle of energy surrounding him.

He flies closer, still...this time to the top of the Ivy Tree. Again that piercing, rasping cry. I tell him...I realize you are King, master of your domain. I will not harm you.

Again his call. I do not understand birdspeak. I struggle, wanting to reassure him, not knowing how other than to send him pictures. I am not prepared for the pictures he sends back to me.

He shows me his habitat, with painfully clear acumen. I see forested areas, with logging cuts, with the Forest floor littered with logs and branches. In a split second, I understand he is showing me the desecration of his area...the area in which he usually resides. Now he lives here, he tells me, his range now shortened to the parkland in the Town.

The moment passes. I continue to stare at him, as he stares far off, into the distance. His voice...his unmistakable voice, one which Hawks usually use in flight, once again calling...and then he flies off, his mighty wings beating the Air.

My head spins, now. I sit on the steps, contemplating the visit. How unusual to see two Hawks, in a single day, I think. I muse over the visions I received...not so strange, when I see wildlife out of their element. What was unusual was the rapidity and the clarity of the pictures he sent.

Taking a deep breath, I continue to dig, scrabbling until I have holes deep enough to shelter the roots of these small bushes...Forsythia, Butterfly Bush, and Viburnum. They will shelter the smaller Birds, the ones that usually hover close to me as I garden...hoping for a Worm or two.

The plants are in, cozy and warm within the shelter of the Snake fence. I pick up my shovel, the pots that held the plants, and take a final look. My eyes are drawn once again to the top of the Ivy Tree, from where Hawk shared his message with me.

It is late afternoon now, with long shadows appearing. It is the kind of afternoon where a morning spent in raking leaves, cleaning garden beds, dreaming and planning a new Season, and communing with Hawks can leave me spent and satisfied.

It is the kind of day where raking ordinary fallen Leaves, tinted with magical colours, opens the door to a whole other World.

One in which Hawks reside, and Squirrels reign and Birds are Kings.

Recollections

Recently, I've had the urge to minimize, in all areas of my life. Cleaning closets, cupboards and storage sheds give me immense satisfaction; I feel much lighter, far more in control when I have taken the detritus from the past, looked, remembered and then let them go.

Sometimes it can be painful. Then there can be joy, as well, as when a small hooded sweater, one that would fit a newborn, falls at my feet...and I remember my babies, both of whom wore the unbelievably soft pale pink garment.

When I kept it, I thought my grandchildren, if they were girls, would keep warm and cosy in it; I honestly believed this, when I was a young mother. How could anyone not want their newborn baby wrapped in this beautiful little outfit?

There were many such sweaters. But this pink one...the colour of it, the softness, the type of knit...a Mother's love was encapsulated within the very woollen texture of it. My love.

Heidi was the first to wear it. Her beautiful blue eyes peeked through the frill of wool, with grave wonder and such interest in the World she found herself in. Heidi was one of most aware babies I have known; her son is very much the same as she, in that he must know what is going on around him.

She grew out of it very quickly, and I mourned as I placed it for safekeeping. No other piece of clothing she had was as soft as this one, this delicate wisp of sweet pink.

I wrapped it carefully in tissue paper. I took great care with it, each time we moved, to keep it safe.

Katrina was the second baby that wore the thistledown pink sweater. Her deep brown eyes watched and accepted the World, through the frill of pink. She was the most peaceful baby I have known, filled with serenity. When she wore the sweater, she would send me the greatest consistently amiable energy; when I held her, my heart would fill...she had the ability to calm any agitation I might have had. This gift would sustain others, for the rest of her short life.

The sweater was again wrapped, after I could no longer squeeze her into it. But it was wrapped rather hurriedly this time; I knew I could have no more children. The Big C took care of my feminine organs; life was harried and very, very full.

Bree came along. I still had the pink sweater, wrapped in yellowed tissue paper. But it was twenty years later. Fashions had changed. And my lovely pink sweater was no longer as pristine as the new fashions...the new sweaters Bree received. And Katrina needed to find her own pink sweater for Bree...one that was infused with a Mother's love. Her love.

But I kept it, and Bree used it to dress her dolls. She chose the pink sweater for her favourite doll; when she held it, I knew deep inside she was feeling that warm, loving energy emanating from the wool.

I packed up Bree's toys when I moved; I found the pink sweater, still wrapped around her doll. She had long grown out of playing with baby dolls; her interests now were centred around sports and hobbies more suited to her age.

I donated the doll; I kept the pink sweater, not so carefully this time. But as I rubbed it against my cheek, the loving energy once more engulfed me; I could not consign it to the rag bin. I took that piece of my life with me, once again...to help me meet the huge Wave of change crashing down upon me with strength and grace.

And then, Graydon came along, bursting upon our family, filled with masculine energy. Certainly he had no need for a tattered pink sweater. But as I hold him, sometimes I visualize my babies wrapped in a swath of pink...and I feel, once again, that pure loving energy...a Grandmother's love. My love.

When it fell against my feet, as I searched through the bag of memories, I picked it up and brushed it off and felt the warm, pink softness, piercing my heart like a true and sure arrow of love.

And in a flash, I had a vision of soft, pure feminine energy...an ethereal wisp of energy. I saw blond curls...I was given a glimpse of a gentle soul...one, I realized, that has yet to appear.

I understood, suddenly, that the pink sweater still has a purpose, as I held it gently in my hands.
This time, I placed it near me in my office. I make sure to give as much respect as I can muster for this tattered piece of pink, this object that has collected my past, and kept the best of the whole.

Minimizing is great. But some things...the ones infused with pieces of my soul...those are the ones that are given a place of honour. They are my talismans.

The Pink Sweater surely belongs amongst them.

Otherworldly Dreaming

I look outside this morning, and there is nary a cloud to be seen. Sun's warm rays brighten Daffodils' shiny, eager faces even more, making them shiver with delight.

Red Tulips, sensuous in their silken cups, line the path, sending a siren's scent, lingering...overpowering at times, soft and gentle at others. They seem to preen themselves with Sun's rays even more than usual, this morning.

Sun chases the last vestiges of a soul-speaking dream I had last night; the message given has not been deciphered as yet...

Sodden, it was...dripping and gurgling, sloshing and splashing...I was in a world of Water. I was not in my cumbersome physical body, I was only an eye, an eye that was ever aware of each nuance of the droplets of Rain and flowing streams that surrounded me.

Objects and Beings that came to me in my watery World shimmered silver at times and became gauzy grey at others, obscured by bubbling froth. My Soul's eye recognized these incandescent energy signatures, connecting with each as it passed through in a small whirlpool of wavering thought.

There was the Cat, sleekly gliding through heavy moisture, his eyes burning into my Soul, telling me to be aware, offering protection from deceit. Eagle, a frequent enough visitor in my daylight hours for me to nickname him Scree, glided by on a stream of Water, offering me the gift of farsightedness. He tells me his tales of prosperity and success...he tells me not to fear failure, for without failure there is no success.

An avalanche of Pebbles and Stones floated by, each turning and winking a bright light, each a warm bastion of strength in this uncertain watery place I found myself in. My spiritual guides for this journey had arrived.

I became a slithering droplet of water, with the ability to adapt and become entirely mutable, independent of other's words and thoughts. I experienced the silky sensation of runneling down a Flower petal, gathering with other droplets in the heart of the Flower.

I became a Raindrop, freezing into a Snowflake. I joined other droplets, gathering in pools, small and large. I entered the Ocean, tasting the brine. I kissed the tops of Trees, before running down to invite their thirsty roots to drink.

I became a Tear, sliding down a downy baby cheek, or gathering in the deeply carved fissures of an elder's face. I learned that different Tears for different Beings feel the same.

I tasted hard baked Sand and Dirt; I gave a small, insignificant flower, a survivor of neglect, a kiss to nourish its weak growth. I wanted to give it hope.

I fell through pollutants and tasted acid, making my soul curl and shrivel up in disgust, sadness and fear.

I merged with a dewdrop, I extinguished a burning forest, I slaked the thirst of a runner...

I opened my unconscious, closed energy and allowed it to flow freely, allowed it to be submerged and cleansed in the Water of Life.

But when I became aware, in my dream, that I was dreaming, I felt my body return, my guides leave, and I knew I would soon waken.

I am a Pisces; I dream of Water often. It is an entirely comfortable place for me to be. It is the first time I have experienced being a drop of Water, however. It is a difficult dream to describe...feelings and emotions were fleeting, hard to catch and hold. Always, Water in my dreams reflect my emotional status... so what did an insig- nificant droplet of Water have to tell me?

A glimpse into another World, it seems.

I would awaken to the sound of Raindrops being driven against the window by a strong Wind. Without a doubt, I thought, the morning would bring clear weather.

I snuggled in, leaving otherworldly dreams behind...to be dissected in the morning.

Incarnation

Now that our family has a new baby among us, I wanted to research the process of incarnation.

In Barbara Ann Brennan's book Hands of Light, she talks about human growth and the development of the auric field. She writes that at each major stage in life, corresponding new and higher vibrations activate different chakras.

And with this in mind, each stage of life opens new energy and consciousness to us, expanding and evolving our ability for higher vibrations and expanded realities. Higher and more sensory than the previous generation. And so humanity evolves...

Many different scholars of incarnation have a similar belief in the process of a baby's birth. I agree with this...I think I have believed it all my life, I think I was born knowing it.

This belief states that the incarnating soul plans the coming lifetime with her Spirit Guides. Soul growth is uppermost, and negative belief systems that were prevalant in former lifetimes need to be cleared. Karma needs to be dealt with. So the Soul has to plan experiences where she can perform the tasks she requires in order to grow and evolve.

The incarnating Soul chooses her parents, who will provide the required environment for future life circumstances. The parental choices will give very precise energies that will give the Soul what she needs to complete her life task. There is a Personal task and a World Task. In order to work on the World task, which involves a gift to the World from the Soul, the Soul must first complete her Personal life task, thereby releasing energies that can be used for the gift to humanity or the Earth.

The life plan that the Soul chooses has many probabilities of different realities, giving her huge choices of free will. Aaah...there's the problem...right there is where I went wrong when I planned my life...I should have given myself just one road...no detours, no side paths that looked so inviting, but turned into huge rocky cliff hangers. I swear I'll remember next time...not so much free will choice!

After this planning period with the Spirit Guides, a Soul then enters a process where she slowly loses consciousness of the Spirit World. There is conception, where an energetic link is formed between the Soul and the fertilized egg. An etheric womb is formed, protecting the Soul from outside influences, other than the mother's. The baby forms, the Soul slowly feels pulled towards it, and then there is a strong flash of consciousness, corresponding with the time of quickening. And then the Soul again loses consciousness, to awaken slowly in the physical.

Upon birth, the etheric womb no longer protects the Soul. She is subjected to the outside energy influences, alone. She will have great spiritual aid during this period, but many babies are still attached to the spiritual world, having great difficulty letting go.

Babies sleep. The soul is, during the sleeping, occupying her higher energy bodies. She leaves her body behind to do the physical work of growing quickly.

Now Graydon must become used to the limitations of the physical sensations and three-dimensional space that is the Earth plane. He was born with a very wide open crown chakra...his spiritual body is very large and imposing...and he must now undergo an enormous struggle to open his lower root chakra and connect to Mother Earth.

It is a fascinating study.

What has our Graydon incarnated to learn? What lessons must he undertake in order to reach ever higher levels of energy vibrations? And who has he left behind, on the spiritual plane...the ones that he might mourn, when he cries?

Graydon's incarnation is the death of his Soul's old way of being. He has undertaken this journey on the Earth plane alone, just as we die alone. Along with us...his immediate family and others yet to be manifested into his life...he will learn how to deal with the detritus of his Soul's past and he will work towards his own further evolution.

He has already helped me move further on my own journey. In countless ways, since he was born and before, when I practiced Reiki on my daughter when she was in labour, he has allowed me to learn a new way...and he has looked, consistently, quite smug about it all.

Who is this Soul who has arrived, in time for Spring and all the rebirth that surrounds me? Who is this Soul who looks as if he is playing a practical trick on me?

I guess I'll find out.