Our soul journey to Mother began one May afternoon when I asked my soul if we could travel. Can you take us somewhere? My eyes were closed to the daylight filling the room, but to me it seemed oddly dark. Black, in fact. Then blacker, and blacker still. I wasn’t scared, just excited. I’d witnessed this strange phenomenon a few times to date. Each time had brought with it the awesome presence and wisdom of the Holy Spirit.
While lounging there in my room with Abigalé (she’s my soul), I felt a gentle lurch. It seemed as though we were moving.
Of course I had no idea what to expect. Or, where we were headed. Souls can be rather tight-lipped. Mine navigated us through the blackness in silence, carefully steering around and between soft, luminous clouds of blue-silver light. I was anxious to know where we were going, but I said nothing.
“You think too many questions,” Abigalé chided, as she expertly skirted the wispy edge of a large, pale cloud. A discernible cool mist caressed my right cheek. “Just relax, dear,” she continued, “I am taking you to meet a special someone.” So I tried to hush my mind. After ten more minutes of cloud dodging Abbey finally said, “We are on a journey to Mother.”
Her Mother? Wait a minute, did she mean—
“Yes my love. It’s time. Look down there, to your right.”
Without opening my eyes I “looked.” A wide gap in the clouds revealed a glimmer of purple within the blackness of … wherever this was. The glimmer grew steadily brighter until the purple light filled my entire range of view. As we drifted closer I saw what was in fact a huge, luminous purple cloud.
I felt a slight bump as Abigalé parked us beneath the magnificent spectacle. The cloud had structure, like a sailing-ship wheel. Misty cloud spokes connected a thick outer ring to a purple hub cloud at the center. Most striking, the whole formation seemed fluid, organic, alive. Sparkling from within the cloud’s vastness, thousands of lavender, pink, and blue stars glittered like Christmas lights and finely cut diamonds. From my viewpoint, lying on my back with both eyes closed, the vision filled my mind.
Indeed, the dazzling purple cloud possessed my entire Self.
This is the Holy Spirit! I thought rather belatedly. Of course I knew who “Mother” was, but the manifest truth of that singular moment had overwhelmed me with visual and emotional awe. Tears of joy and gladness sprang from behind my tightly closed eyelids. On top of all that, I felt indescribably loved. An endless, ancient love; a love so old that I could not remember forgetting it. And I was filled with love for her—
Instantly a torrent of glorious warmth sparkled through my body. It felt as though I’d been infused with the vision splayed out before me.
Another wave passed through me. Then, a short moment after Mother’s thought-greeting, my left ear toned sharply, piercing the silence of this sacred moment.
“She wants you to wiggle your fingers and toes for her,” Abigalé giggled. As noted elsewhere, my soul giggles sometimes. But I was entranced. Unfit for action. A rather curious form of greeting, I thought. Just the same, I obliged our mother. Deep beneath the warm blanket I fervently wiggled my fingers and toes.
Abbey heard my thoughts. “Mother’s never had a body,” she explained. “She doesn’t ‘live’ in the same way that you live. Don’t feel odd, Mother asks everyone to do it. She can feel the life inside you because she gave it to you.”
Ah yes. That made good sense. Wait. “Everyone”? How many other guys had my beloved mate brought on a journey to Mother?
Abigalé did not address that thought. No matter. I was more content than I’d ever been. Even so, scores of questions racked my brain, or at least what remained of it. Again I wondered: who else has made a journey to the Holy Spirit? I’d simply never heard of such a thing.
Neither as few nor as many as you think, child-of-mine. Living-childs do come to me in this way, with the Companion, for the same reason you knew as an infant
“To become ‘one flesh’?” I’d recently been working on Mark 10, and felt that I had made some progress on Christ’s deeper meaning.
“And the others? The rest of us?”
All-childs visit me again, in their-way. Most do not go back
A few minutes later our soul journey to Mother ended. Abbey slowly moved us backwards, in the same direction from which we’d come. I thought-spoke to the cloud: you are the-most-beautiful. I love you.
But Mother did not return my goodbye. Better, another rush of sparkles coursed through my body. In silence I watched the purple cloud grow smaller in size until it disappeared from view. There was no need to say goodbye to her. Ever. From that moment until this one, whenever I think of my perfect Mother, pray, or talk to her (more than a dozen times each day) I wiggle my fingers and toes.
— Andrew Michael
How to Find Your Soul →