Of Light and Lavender and the Memory of a Kiss

      

      I walked directly to the pool and sat quietly next him, putting my feet in, not asking for his attention. I had moved more into my divine feminine energy early in this process and as a result, I understood that he would let me know when and if he was ready for me. He smiled at me from the side and told me I was beautiful.

      He slipped into the water serpent-like, along the rocky side of the pool and faced me. He extended his hand in invitation. I accepted. The sheet I wore clung to my every curve now and I lay my head on his nearly hairless chest for a while. After just a few minutes, I turned to face him. I touched his throat. His neck with my fingertips.  It was strong and pure and muscular. His right hand slipped under the sheet and gently massaged my back. I could feel him, his every move, his warmth. He was more there, more physical, different from the non-physical yet palpable energy we had exchanged when he had held my hand in the library. 

      It occurred to me that I would at some point want to know how he had managed to manifest in such a fully physical way that day. On this day, he presented  himself as he had been just before he passed from the physical world. Mid to late 50’s.  Hair trimmed short on the sides and back but long enough in front for wisps of hair to fall haphazardly forward. I reached up and brushed his hair up and away from his eyes. I started to wonder if he would always come to me this clearly from now on but ceased my random thoughts and brought myself back to this exquisite moment with him, not wanting to miss feeling even one stroke of his hand on my back.

      I had only shared myself fully with 3 men in my life. Two husbands and one beautiful love affair in between. I knew that a man needed to earn a woman as much as she needed him to earn her.

      But in that pool with Daniel, I knew that he had more than earned me lifetime after lifetime.  My body temptation was to give him everything I had right there—right then. My soul knew it was too soon.

      He came closer and I fell into those eyes. I know that is a trite way to describe the sensation but right now I can think of no other way. His eyes had depth, sometimes green, sometimes hazel. On occasion, light brown. The color of his eyes seem to reflect the mood of his soul. The movement of his hand on my back slowed. Then, he asked me if he could now remind me of what we had together so long ago. His lips were close to mine now so I knew what he meant. For some reason I didn’t say yes. I said please…

      His lips were full and soft and teasing. Just barely touching mine, tickling the surface and making me hungry for more. And he did give me more, but just a little and I resisted the temptation to take more of what I wanted, knowing he would give it, but knowing too, that it would be too much too soon. It was like bathing in a new kind of light. I got a glimpse of a past mistake with him, neither one of us finding the wisdom to look away from the intensity of that light, and so we burned. That memory told me that if I accepted too much too soon, he was likely to disappear. Like a gentle bird that flies ever so close and happily takes tiny bits of bread, and comes back for more and more and more. But then you get too anxious and get too close because enough is never enough—the bird flies away and you recognize your mistake all too late.

      Even as I held myself in check, I could see what I was learning. His very presence ignited an act of patience in me—of restricting my desire to have everything I wanted all at once.

I had been stroking his throat the entire time. As his lips played with mine, I received and reciprocated, finding his rhythm and accepting it as my own. Then, a complete surprise. A surge of lavender colored sparkling light passed through our throats, back and forth. At that moment, I felt I may never utter another word. There may be no need. The sweet colored energy surged though by body downward, lingering at the heart, warm and clean, brief but powerful. He gently moved away,  before it became too much.

      As my body settled, I found us forehead to forehead, too close to perceive where I ended and he began.

      “I’ve missed you,” I whispered. I remembered him.

      “I’ve missed you, too.”

      But it was like his words fell backwards along with him, into a tunnel.

      I woke in my bed, one tear running down my right cheek. I wiped the tear away. and said,

      “Thank you.” Perhaps too late for him to hear.

      I found sleep.

      The next morning, I awoke feeling warm but afraid. I have learned not to dissect my feelings and to allow emotions to guide but not consume me. As a woman, I allow myself the fleeting feelings that come with all the colors of being a woman.

      I took out my pencil, and my no frills yellow legal pad. I saw that the pencil was in serious need of sharpening. (Why do I not just get  down to the business of sharpening, and spare myself the inconvenience of dwindling lead? Perhaps I'll look at the meaning behind that someday. Not today.) As I put dull pencil to paper, scribing his latest message, my soul calmed, knowing he had not gone for good.

Teacher

She never says no, yet she takes her own time.

Her bridle of strength she wears proud.

Her gait speaks of fineness and virtue.

Her wisdom she dons like a shroud.

Each morning I rise; her love beckons.

She knows how to gambol and feel.

She’s mastered her mission. She’s wiser than me.

Her softness can show me what’s real.

Then we go riding, the world takes its leave.

Just her mane and my hair sail the wind.

Her body each moment reflects back my truth.

My guru, my master, my friend.

Daniel (2010)

Verse After Life

I asked if I could call him Daniel. It had never been his favorite way to be addressed in life, he explained. Too biblical. But he would agree if it pleased me. It pleased me. Daniel had left his earthly body behind in 2007 at the age of 56. Prostate cancer that had spread to the bone.He saw the pain in my face as he explained and reassured me.

"It's ok, Cassie. My cancer was my vehicle. Nothing more. I had to make it to this next phase of learning somehow."

He had called me Cassie from the moment we met. He said he didn't know how he came up with that name but I didn't question it or object.

One of Daniel's deepest desires was to share with me and subsequently, with others, what it had been like for him to leave his body--to explain the soul's confusion and the unresolved earthly desires we carry with us. He accomplished this through poetry.

Every morning, after I had traveled, I would wake with a sacred poetic message swimming in my head. In short order, his words would make way to the tips of my fingers. How accurately I would write down his words would depend on my own spiritual clarity, day by day. Some days the poetry was clumsy, with a child like nature. Other days, I could bring in his grace--his brilliance. With melodic verse, I grew closer to knowing how completely we misunderstand death. With each melodic verse, also I grew closer to him.

A Soul’s Confusion

On the other side there’s a rainbow

The first thing the Soul’s Eye will see.

Will it be the same for all who go

Or was this plan in place just for me?

Next, a doorway to a learning

As chasmic as learning can be;

And when the learning is over

The soul earns its chance to be free.

My earthly life, just a memory

 A strong hold that just won’t let go.

To see and to taste and to touch just once more

A new world now I must know.

In the waters here, there’s a cleansing.

As pure as a cleansing can be.

And once the cleansing is over

The soul earns its chance to be free.

Where do I go from here?

Awake to the choices, the meanings so deep

Where do I go from here?

While you sleep, my dear one, while you sleep?

                                                               Daniel (June, 2010)

Limbo. Purgatory. The Other Side.

What was this place, with the white house, its surroundings challenging me to reach beyond my senses? One night, I mustered the courage to ask my teacher, Edward, directly.

“Those of you living in the Earth school refer to this place by many different names. Limbo. Purgatory. The Other Side. We are not particularly fond of these. The Learning Place seems the most accurate depiction to me. Names aside, this place is the next level—the first stop, once the body is left behind, as the cyclical spirit journey continues. Know this, Sandra. There is only one reason you and some others are granted access. Travel here cannot be used for one’s amusement alone. Be diligent. Take what you learn and use the wisdom in your earthly experience for a higher purpose. Share your knowledge abundantly. And keep in your awareness, Sandra, that the portal between worlds can slam shut at any moment. So be sure, my dear Sandra, that you are where you truly desire to be, in the event that the choice to move back or forth is no longer open to you. Know that if you want to ensure your continued life in the physical world, you would be wise to stay there and not come back here. ”

I didn’t really understand everything I heard from Edward that night, but his words added urgency to my life, as I walked the Earth day-to-day and as I walked through the portal to The Learning Place at night. From that moment on, I felt afraid, at some level—all the time. And yet, I was compelled to continue my nightly travels.

But slowly, I would learn surrender. With each journey made between my earthly life and the other side, I would let go just a bit more. I would come to trust that I would end up right where I needed to be, either here or there.

And isn’t that one of the spiritual skills we most covet in this life? To develop the ability to surrender to what is with peaceful certainty, that all is as it should be?

"You will meet him on your next visit, " Edward promised me. "Come at your best. You will begin by accessing The Book of Our Lives. It is time for you both to see for yourselves how all is recorded. No thought, no action, no love, ever dies."

The Shadow in the Corner: It Was Him.

An Excerpt from The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond

by Sandra Alexander

The door was open. The wooden porch slats gave a little under my bare feet and I entered the big white house. I could immediately sense that an entire world was contained inside that place. He approached and greeted me. Hand outstretched. Long elegant fingers. I could barely discern his physical features but the warmth of his energy was palpable.

He was my teacher, he told me.  I could call him Edward. That would work for now, was his message. Vague.  I felt comfortable with him and within those walls. I wondered if my mind was just conjuring up a setting that felt familiar for me or whether this place was designed to be welcoming for all who entered. At the same time that my mind questioned, my soul concluded that it didn’t matter.

Inside, Edward guided me off to the right toward a large castle-like door, wooden with heavy iron hinges and handle. Even before Edward opened the door, I felt the air turn thick, and the heady scent of rain forest green seeping toward me.

_____________

The shadow in the corner came in clear focus. A man. Standing at a distance. Hesitant. I sat with Edward at the healing pool and pretended not to notice the conspicuous figure, dark shoulder length hair. Beard, full but trimmed. Black pants and a gold brocade Nehru jacket. I pretended not to notice that he was beautiful.

“He wants to meet you.” Edward posed this, but not in the form of a question

.

It was one of those moments. You know. A split second that remains in the heart. The split second that we look back on again and again. A one point of no return.

It would take some time, but I would say yes. I would meet him. Edward would introduce us. Our two worlds would meet. My earthly home, his home, above and beyond. And for a time, at least for me, those two worlds would collide, sending the extremes of mystery, love, beauty and passion, spinning out of control.

My Path to the Other Side and to Him

My path to the other side, and to him, I paved first with knowledge. From when I was a child, I had the ability and an affinity to travel to a place I called across the bridge. Now it was 2010. In my adult life, I was seeking a spiritual teacher. There was so much  I sought to understand about life and about myself. About loss and about love. I knew instinctively that I would not find that understanding in my immediate earthly surroundings. So I began to research the art of astral travel, or astral projection, as it is sometime called.

By that time, I had already trained in self-hypnosis and had explored past life regression. So astral projection come quite naturally to me. I learned it is best to eat clean, natural food, soak in a bath of sea salts, and to be at peace with my thoughts before each take-off.

Equally important, I learned to ground myself when I returned from my travels, ensuring that my energy came completely back into my body and through the bottoms of my feet, like roots planted into the earth. On occasion, I would forget this step, and would feel spacey during my-day to-day life, finding it difficult to function.

Each time I traveled, my body was left behind in the comfort of my Zen-style pedestal bed. Even with eyes closed, I could observe the wispy, smoky, mirror image of myself drift away from everything I knew, and onto a cement stairway that would lead me to the other place.

The first time I set foot on the other side of that stairway, I knew I was home. Instinctively, I knew he was there waiting. It was all so ordinary.

I crossed an expansive lawn, wearing only a sheer white bed sheet, the only reminder of my earthly launching pad. 

My bare feet drifted through the grass, soft, like kitten fur. A large white house, simple and ordinary, presented in front of me. Surprising. All those images of gold and glitz and royalty must have still encapsulated my thoughts about how heaven might look. Is that what this place was? In that moment, I let those images go. That release would be the first of many preconceived notions about that other place, about myself, about what's real, and about love that I would be forced to let go of over the next many months. 

The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond

Introduction: The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond

I first considered writing this book in the form of a novel, creative fiction. But in order to remain authentic, I am writing instead, from the heart. This is a true story. My story. This is a love story, out of the ordinary and out of this world. 

I am inviting you to share in my personal journey of love, ecstasy, and truth. Travel with me, experience and discover what those in a higher place, living in higher wisdom, with no physical body to hamper, restrict or distract them, can teach us about love.

The publication of the book is nearing completion. Until then, I will share bits and bites of the inspirations I found by being in Love Above and Beyond. 

The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle. The book title chose me. And it makes sense really. Life's earth school is like that. Like those sugar covered cream filled donuts. You take a bite, in anticipation of finding the really good stuff. Life promises us the really good stuff, expressed or implied, right? But there's other stuff to go through first. Boring stuff, messy stuff, kinda stale stuff. And often it all falls apart. Bite after bite, we anticipate, because in general, we are always hoping. And sometimes we forget to savor and appreciate when the path to the sweet creamy stuff in the middle is soft and sugary.


That's what he was to me and what I was to him. Together, we found a way to the sweet and with great effort and sacrifice, we learned to enjoy the path that led us there. As you walk this journey with me, perhaps you will discover answers to some of your own questions, long left unanswered. What is real? How sheer is the curtain between us and the other worlds? How is love really meant to be?

My personal and most pressing question became this: When a woman finds the truth and depth of love on another plane, with a gentle male soul, no longer in his body, does the experience forever surpass any lover she may find here on earth? Or will the astral love experience provide the ultimate preparation for love on earth, the way it was always meant to be-an example to others on how it can be?

Perhaps you and I can find the answers together. And maybe, just maybe, we can change the face of love on earth forever.

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The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond. Copyright 2016(c) Sandra Alexander, All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format without expressed permission except in the case of brief quotations, or blog shares and excerpts embodied in critical articles and reviews.