Abby's journal

 

 

October 21, 2018

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Steve has a good bit of his strength and stamina back, and he has some time before dinner, so we can try channeling an entry.

He has been writing his blog off-and-on, too, but like this journal, there is no-longer any public link to it. This is wisest in a new city, when one might lose one's job if the wrong person has the whim to explore his public website. If you have the old Archives link, the new entries can be found at the top of the list.

Now we pause, so that Steve doesn't write this entry for me...

Because he has news to share, from our research; but he doesn't know whether that's "him," or "me."

Much is going on behind the scenes--and much is planned out. I mean, not just in general, but in Steve's life, and with our work and project. It seems dead-ended, to Steve; and yet, I know what I'm doing, as the Council permits me to steer events for him. When a person on earth, and their spirit-guide, align themselves and act together for the common good and the higher good; when they true themselves, together, with their life's purpose; then the spirit guide gains the authority, through the Council, to direct things. This is lawful interference; and one can argue that even this interference was part of God's Plan; but in any case, we gain the permission. But many times, it seems to the person on earth that all is hopeless. That is because I am "lining up the shot."

I am a trick billiards player, so-to-speak; and there is a pause, as you know, when he or she lines up the shot. That is all that's going on. Wait until I hit the cue ball!

Because it only takes a "nudge" from over here. This, of course, is all energy. The stick is energy, the strike is energy, the "balls" are energy nexuses. (Steve asks, "Is 'nexi' a word?") There is a basis, and there are bases; there is a datum, and there is data; there is a phenomenon, and there are phenomena; there is a moose, and there are moose. But whether there are any "nexi," Steve doesn't know...

I don't use words for communication, but I can still play with them. I am not incapable of using words. But one would not always walk when one can fly.

I have to slow down to use words--I don't like it, because they are limiting--but I can.

Steve is pausing to pick me up again...

Downstairs, lives a young couple, and they leave their snow boots outside the door. There is the large pair, and the petite pair--and Steve finds it very poignant. He misses that time in our life together. One day, about 180 years ago, there were his big boots and my tiny boots. Steve doesn't remember with his mind, but he remembers vividly with his heart. Steve can look out our window, and in the distance, see the skyline of Portland--and he knows exactly where the hole in the skyline is, where we lived, and where I grew sick of consumption, before I died. He always looks for that spot. But I am standing beside him!

What was real, is still real, now, in the present. The "accoutrements" pass in a constant parade. Find the Real in the Present. I have never left him, in my heart. The heart, our Guru says, is the core of the mind. Go to the core--there you will find your beloved waiting for you.

Now Steve likes to wrap these up; whereas when I have said what I meant to say, I am done. But Steve thinks I was always like that. He was just telling me, out loud, that he thinks I would not talk so much; that with my big eyes, I would be observing silently; and then, suddenly, I could come out with a pithy observation, which would have him in stitches, or reveal a profound insight. He says he was always watching for those observations, that they were always worth waiting for. Many people thought I was odd. Matt thought I was a rare jewel. (You can see why I liked him.)

When everybody thinks you are odd, or worse, and the one person you love "gets" you truly, and understands and appreciates you; and makes love to you in such a way as to show you--this is irresistible. That is not quite the word I wanted. I am trying to convey how I felt toward Matt in those days. I felt like a wandering spirit in the world, whom nobody could see, and only Matt could see me.

I have loved him a very, very long time. More lifetimes than you could count. Who can tell us that we should not be together this way, today? They can go mind their own business! Because we were one heart before they were even human beings. Steve is writing it that way (feeling that surely, it must be an exaggeration), because he felt I insisted on it that way.

Steve's job takes him into hell--into the hell of dementia, of old age, of disability. He does it dutifully--not, as he is the first to admit, always in the spirit of cheerful service. He sees people working at nursing homes and rehabilitation centers, who are far better at this, than he is. He admires them and tries to learn from them. He is a philosopher, teacher and writer by nature; but there are times when the Council advises balance. There may, Steve feels, also be a matter of needing certain experience in order to come to where I live after he passes. He's not sure of that; but he knows that I actively engaged in service to others, and I have won a certain sphere here in the astral realm. If he is to join me here in my home, he may have to have a certain amount of those qualifications, himself. So whatever it is, he tries to be at least resigned, if not cheerful, about the necessity of doing this sort of work, for as long as it is required of him.

Do you see why we don't want to make this public? What if Steve's supervisor could read this??? Best not.

If Steve's health continues improved, we shall try to write a bit more often.

Love to each and all,
Abby