CHAPTER 1
ESCAPE
Rescued from the hopelessness of a confinement that until now held me prisoner to its reality, I quickly latched onto the realization that Angela freed all four of us and brought us here to a place only she knew ... a safe place ... an enlightened place.
The night had vanished without any conscious recollection of passing time, and a long overdue feeling of hope and quietness hugged my inner thoughts. The brightness of an awakening sun revealed the splendor of a lush, green hillside. It reminded me of a storybook meadow, far removed from the bonds of colorless nights and the caged existence I gladly abandoned as a shackled memory.
I momentarily closed my eyes and tried to capture the fresh ambiance of the crisp morning air and full solitude of our surroundings. A thick blanket of knee-high grasses, clover, and wildflowers saturated my senses with their refreshing beauty and aromas. The kiss of a light breeze complemented the radiance of the early-morning sun.
Angela gave us a few moments to clear our thoughts and adjust to our new circumstances before summoning us together as a group in preparation for our journey.
"We need to all join as one in a bonding circle," Angela insisted; she would never take us on such a venture without first invoking a prayer of protection around us. She kept it short but effective and knew all the right things to say. I felt very secure and reassured by her peaceful yet authoritative nature.
Leaving the obvious unambiguousness of the open field, I watchfully stayed focused in anticipation of what awaited our group beyond the fringe of the majestic, virgin forest that appeared before us.
"Follow me closely," Angela instructed, "and be keenly aware of all that your senses reveal, both physically and emotionally."
As we neared the edge of the forest, a previously unnoticed pathway guided us through a perimeter of deep-purple flowering shrubs seeping out from the wooded boundary. Approaching the hedged border, I paused and examined the expressive nature of bountiful blood-red, multi-petaled, thorned flowers peering out from beneath the glossy, dark leaves. The shyness of the flowers and theatrical dominance of their protective foliage left me with an unnerving feeling of emotional conflict, as if they represented more of a warning than just a contrasting adornment. This unknowing sent mixed emotional apprehensions threading through my thoughts, urging me not to enter, but Angela and the others continued onward without hesitation, so I had no choice but to follow them.
Stepping prominently onto the mossy forest floor, the transition to this pristine woodland, abundant with evergreen and hardwood trees, awakened all of my senses. Angela and the other two women, Elizabeth and Nancy, led the way, with Ed and me bringing up the rear on the narrow, well-camouflaged trail.
Beneath the giant timbers lay an array of ferns, vines, and wild orchids that would surpass even the greatest painter's vision. With cascades of sunlight rushing through the bright green canopy above, the details of contrasting colors grew ever clearer.
As we ventured deeper into the woods, the tapestry of our environment became more vibrant and alive. I could feel the dynamics of our seclusion calling me to an understanding of crisp solitude found nowhere else. It felt liberating.
We soon joined a well-worn path alongside a smooth, rock-laden, and gently flowing stream. It presented us with a choice of transitioning to the right, into a deeper blend of browns and greens adeptly charging up a sleepy hillside, or to the left, where the stream split into two smaller side-by-side brooks flowing like a painter's brush through the shadows of watchful evergreens. With skillful certainty, our capable guide bypassed the hillside in favor of a pathway paralleling the pleasing brooks.
Reaching a widening of the trail where two fallen trees provided a perfect pair of natural benches, Angela asked us to find a comfortable seat, close our eyes, and relax. After reassuring us that nothing could reach or harm us in this protected place, she instructed us to focus consciously on our breathing by taking in slow, deep breaths beyond the regular capacity of our lungs, until it felt like it filled our stomachs. Then, after holding it as long as we comfortably could, to slowly let it out again. She called it "belly breathing" and said that these full, cleansing breaths would help keep us relaxed and focused while sharpening our physical and mental acuity as well.
"An attribute you will find most helpful in what you are about to experience," Angela claimed.
We followed Angela's instructions as she shared with us some of the sacred beliefs her ancestors passed down concerning the spiritual significance of the trees and animals of these forests. She revealed her personal beliefs in secret and invisible realms, spoken of in legends and ages past, while inviting us to keep our minds open and our thoughts clear. Her words resonated with the depth of her wisdom, and the expanse of her knowledge seemed endless. When she stopped talking, we all sat quietly with our eyes closed and listened to the meticulous sounds of unspoiled nature.
After several minutes, Angela said softly, "Once you feel completely relaxed, both physically and mentally, continue belly breathing and maintain your relaxed state, but, keeping your thoughts clear, open your eyes and shift your awareness to all of your senses, both physical and intuitive. Let the story they tell unveil every aspect of the beauty that surrounds us, not as a passive witness, but as an active participant. Above all, pay special attention to how each of your senses complements the others and remember how that makes you feel. Being acutely aware of your emotions is what helps you to remember. This is because your ability to recall each moment is enhanced by the intensity of the feelings you associate with the memory." She said this to all four of us, but I knew her emphasis was meant for me. Mindful of my inexperience, she wanted to make sure I understood the full significance of her words.
I remained still and at ease, pushing away the usual mind-filling distractions of random thoughts, as best I could, while silently encouraging my mind to take in the full symphony of Mother Nature's backdrop. About twenty feet in front of us, three frisky, red squirrels started playfully chasing one another through the underbrush, bouncing off the trunks of fall-colored oaks and sugar maples, while somewhere up in the branches, the methodical hammering of a determined woodpecker echoed through the leaves.
With another quick reminder of the importance of all our senses, Angela again asked us to close our eyes briefly and try to distinguish the diversity of fragrances in the air.
"Your sense of smell is directly linked to your memories," she told us. "It plays an important role in the degree of emotions attached to them."
I turned my head slowly from side to side. The sweet, earthy smell brought back warm childhood memories of kneeling next to my mom as she worked meticulously in her many gardens.
I remember how much patience she had teaching me to recognize and name various plants and understand the differences between the numerous varieties of perennials and herbs and the look-alike "weeds" that grew right alongside them. She explained how some flowers carried a greater worth or importance than others simply because of their color or shape or even just because of tradition. She also pointed out that most of the people who held those beliefs just pulled the other so-called weeds out and threw them away. It seemed plain to me that their vibrant colors and complex designs made them just as beautiful and original as the other plants. So, in her loving way of teaching, she always let me leave many colorful weeds in the garden.
As I transitioned from seeing the world through the eyes of a child to the added perspective of my teenage years, I realized the real life lesson of "the flowers and the weeds" played out in the world around me.
Even to this day, I cannot understand society's reason for its destructive attitude. What gives anyone the right to segregate or destroy any member of "the garden" just because that person doesn't feel someone else is worthy enough to be on equal standing with the others? This way of appreciating life remains one of the greatest gifts I received from Mom.
"We need to continue," Angela emphasized in a soft but persuasive voice, summoning me back to the present.
We arose from our seats on the logs and once again proceeded down the trail as Angela pointed out the seemingly endless varieties and colors of delicate blossoms that blanketed the forest floor. With her years of experience, she could describe our landscape with so much detail and clarity it almost seemed as if she created it herself. The sheer magnitude and depth of beauty, as only nature could conceive it, revitalized my soul.
Leaving the soothing sounds of the twin streams, our guide then led us into a much denser area of old-growth hardwoods and a small clearing where three fallen, majestic oak trees formed a semi-circle around an alluring pool of clear, deep-blue water. This rustic, ancient-looking pond, about half the size of a basketball court, immediately captured my imagination. The almost perfectly round shape and single row of bowling-ball-size, smooth, white rocks encircling it reminded me of a giant pearl necklace. I stared at the pool of dark water for quite a while, allowing my mind to wander back and forth, contemplating its origin. I faintly heard Angela say something about leaving us there for a short time, but I never looked up. Reflections of sunbeams skipped across tiny ripples created by a gentle breeze. Like the deepening of a dream, the rest of my world seemed to fade away, and I became totally focused on the shimmering images in the pool. It mesmerized me. As I gazed at the sparkling peaks rolling in perfect rhythm toward me, I felt drawn to them, as if something in the water plucked at my inner desires, beckoning me to learn its secrets. I leaned closer.
Suddenly, a soft but brilliant white light encircled me, eclipsing everything in my view except the water itself. The tunneling effect of the mysterious light forced me to concentrate all my attention on the liquid mirror before me. Kneeling on the rocky bank, I slowly reached out to touch the water with my fingertips.
Then, leaning back in what felt like slow motion, I silently watched as the gentle ripples evolved and grew into massive, tumbling waves filled with millions of pinpoints of light. It was magnificent! They returned in torrents, cascading toward me as if to swallow me up. I suppose I should have instinctively jumped back to safety, but an unexplainable, peaceful feeling kept me still and focused.
Locked in its spell, I watched in awe as the waves morphed into an expanding cloud of churning white light. It silently grabbed me and wrapped me in a cocoon of absolute calm. I felt totally at the mercy of my peaceful captor, yet, instead of feeling imprisoned, I experienced a deep sense of belonging as if a long-awaited reunion was about to take place.
I closed my eyes and let myself go.
CHAPTER 2
THE ARCHWAY
A strange sensation rushed through me, that of moving upward. Could I be floating? Flying? I couldn't be sure. I opened my eyes, but with no real reference for speed or distance, my perceived feeling of rising felt more like I somehow just "knew" it.
Without warning, through the brilliance of the misty light, I found myself face to face with an enormous angel standing within arm's reach in front of me. When he came into focus, my first impression was that of a very large body builder or an American football player because of his extremely broad chest and shoulders and sizably smaller waist. This was quite evident even concealed under the bright white, full-length robe, fashionably tied in place with a golden sash. His youthful, clean-shaven, fair-skinned face, medium length, curly black colored hair, and dark brown eyes complemented his massive, very powerful-looking wings.
Unlike the feathery look often portrayed in movies, his wings had a translucent, silky, satin appearance and glistened as if they were made of multi-colored clear ice. A waving, gold-and-magenta-colored aura extended several feet out from his enormous frame, adding a dazzling effect to the already bright white glow reflecting off his robe. It made him somewhat difficult but breathtaking to look at. I felt alarmed but not afraid. He smiled and looked directly into my eyes.
"Peace be with you, Jeremiah," he said in a quiet, calming voice. "I am Metatron. I will guide you."
I guess those must have been just the words I needed to hear, because after he spoke them, I felt very much at ease. However, he did not exactly "speak" them. Though these reassuring words did indeed come from this huge, glowing angel, they did not come from his mouth. He spoke to me only with his mind—telepathically!
I then noticed two other angels with us, one on either side of me. They also stood very large and powerful in appearance, though not as grandiose as Metatron. They also displayed large, folded wings. Their aqua-blue auras set them ablaze in the same manner as a bright white object glowing under the rays of a black light. With my relatively short stature of only five foot seven inches, I barely came up to their chests, yet they filled me with a sense of peace and security that made me feel like I was some sort of dignitary, and they were my bodyguards escorting me to a very important meeting. I felt a strong sense of certainty that while in their company no harm could come to me.
When I looked away from the other two angels and back at Metatron, his wings were no longer visible, and his aura now extended only a few inches from his body, making him appear more like a gladiator in a white choir gown with a silhouetting, gold-tinted, magenta glow. This new perspective also prompted me to look back at the other two angels. Their wings had likewise disappeared, and their auras had dimmed to a resonating delicate hue.
About the same time I became aware of the fact that we no longer seemed to be ascending, something shiny flashed in front of me. As the brilliance of the encircling light subsided, the shiny object became clearer. I found myself gazing upon the superb, golden-armored breastplate of another even bigger angel now standing alongside Metatron. His shoulder-length, wavy dirty-blonde colored hair, sapphire-blue eyes, and light bronze complexion perfectly complemented his dark, double-strapped sandals and the thigh-length, pure white, sleeveless robe he wore under his armor. His enormous wings were also more solid and heavier looking than those of Metatron, and his face more distinct. With his arms outstretched in a welcoming manner, he smiled and proclaimed, "Peace be with you!"
As a child, I learned of the indestructible golden armor worn by Michael, commander of all the angels, so as soon as I saw him, I felt confident it had to be him. I briefly admired his incredible protective armor and then asked, "Are you the Archangel Michael?"
"I am," he replied in a commanding voice as his massive, rainbow-tinted, semi-folded wings disappeared behind him, and his rich, dark red, and gold aura diminished to a pleasingly soft level.
"Can you tell me why I am here?" I asked.
"Only to remember," he responded in a decisive tone.
He turned his head to the right and gestured toward a colossal, freestanding arch positioned perhaps twenty-five or thirty feet in front of us. Focusing on it only briefly, I began to look around the room we now occupied. The brilliant light that first surrounded us faded away into a refreshing clearness, and in its place, a delicate, violet glow, like an aura, could be seen everywhere, even emanating from the floor and walls. A feeling of total peacefulness continued to flow through me as I slowly surveyed the room.
Like the arch in front of us, the extraordinary chamber seemed to be completely constructed of smooth, pure-white stone. High above the floor, I noticed a large, triangle-shaped opening, big enough to easily stand up in. Keeping my eyes focused upward, I continued to turn slowly all the way around, noting the walls contained twelve of these large, triangular openings, all spaced equally apart and positioned with the tips of the triangles pointed down. The subtle but noticeably different color of each opening suggested a single pane of faintly stained glass filled the void. The chamber itself was completely round, about half the size of a football field. The room may have had a domed ceiling, but if it existed at all, the ceiling seemed to disappear into its own brightness, rendering it indistinguishable from the walls. A sweet, tantalizing aroma of fresh-ground cinnamon filled the air. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply through my nose.
