February 2, 2017

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Earlier this morning, we took a quick walk to the beach before Steve's dental appointment, and something happened that I want to share by way of example. Lately, Steve has been telling me--and last evening, most emphatically so--that he wishes our communication could be more precise and tangible. Like a light going off and coming on three times--that kind of thing.

But how can I explain this--Steve will have to try to catch my impressions, here. To someone on earth, I am like the wind. My mind is like quicksilver, like gossamer. Like the flight of a hummingbird. I am quite tangibly with Steve, you see--but not in the gross sense, because Steve is in a gross state, but I am not. Therefore, if he wants to communicate with me as I am, he will have to learn to "catch the wind." It is not that the wind is imaginary--far from it!--but it is the wind, after all.

Does that make sense to you?

So, this morning, Steve did that, without even realizing it. As natural as a morning breeze. And I will tell you how it occurred.

There we are, standing on the shore, and perhaps 20 feet to Steve's right are three seagulls, standing just before the lapping waves. Steve is watching them, and then, suddenly, I opened for him a greater understanding. My mind impinged on his, and what he suddenly saw, in a flash, was this--the two slightly larger gulls nearer the water were actually females, and they were busily preening. Lifting a wing, cleaning and smoothing a feather underneath, folding the wing, thinking for a minute, then checking again to see if she had gotten it quite right, you see. The other was engaged in some other troublesome spot, and they were quite absorbed in this necessary activity. But the third gull was a male. He wore a disgusted expression, and he was facing away from the two ladies, unmoving. It struck me as hilarious, and I pointed it out to Steve just precisely as I might have, were I that physical young lady he remembers so fondly. My mind is just as it was. I have not gone anywhere. I am clearer and freer and sharper, but I am the same girl as always. And I want to share these funny tidbits with him, still!

He felt my mind enter his quite tangibly and naturally, and he responded to me quite naturally, before he had even realized he had done so. This is how it's done, or how it can be done. This is how natural it can be.

As for those who disbelieve, you have to realize that not everything real is physical. There is where you make your mistake. Suppose, now, that you (if you are male) meet two women, when you are dating. One of them has the capacity to love you, and one doesn't. They are both physically attractive--they both say the same kinds of things, perhaps, on the first "date." What, precisely, is that capacity? Is it tangible? Is it real?

You'd better believe it is. You'll be staking your life on it. But it is not something you can touch. You can touch either of these ladies, and you won't be able to physically touch that capacity. But it is real, nonetheless, as a non-physical reality.

(Steve is itching, here, to add to this with his own examples, but this is the example I have given him to share with you.)

I, as a person, am every bit as real as I ever was, as the incarnated Abby de Poyen. And I love Mathew, now called Steve, as much as I ever did. I am supremely happy, now, that he is consciously and intentionally with me. I could ask for nothing more. He has honored me as you cannot imagine being honored--that a physical person would turn to, and recommit to, an astral soul-mate unseen, unheard, untouched, totally unperceived--except with the heart and mind. We would have loved each other once he crossed over and found me--but to do it, now? Sigh...

Victor Zammit feels that the future of cross-dimensional contact is for us, the people in spirit, to lower our vibrations down to the level of earth, and manifest physically to you all. (Yecch!) But I say, the future is for people on earth to raise their vibration level and come up to us. That is done through love--and right now, it is being done by those in the vanguard, through two of the strongest and purest types of love--mother-to-child, and soulmate-to-soulmate. Mothers refuse to believe that their child is gone, or that that sacred bond is broken--because it is not. So they ignore what anybody and everybody else has to say on the matter, and they reach out and begin to communicate. They even write about it, publicly. What do they care what Society thinks? But they do want other grieving mothers to know about it. Because their hearts reach out to those other mothers.

Just so with us, and soul-mates. We know what it's like. And if you can keep balanced and sane with this, we are offering you another solution--a solution that was once quite well-known--a solution that was forgotten by Society, but not by a few brave souls here and there, who, like the grieving mothers, didn't care what anybody else thought.

Many of you know of signs. But master this kind of mind-to-mind, natural communication, and you are on the road to complete contact. And then when the earth-side partner crosses, there is practically no adjustment at all. You just step fully into the relationship, here, as if into another phase.

Steve was thinking, the other day--he so misses my young physical form (I was something of a beauty ;-)--he would so wish to hold me. But I was only that young woman for about eight years, from 16, when we first started courting, to 24, when I died. It has been 176 earth years since I passed; and as of March 10, we will have been married, across the divide, in Steve's current life, for seven years. Almost as long as we were together in the 19th century. So one must get perspective. Steve and I have been lovers in countless bodies, through the centuries. He knows I was a Native American girl in the Lakota tribe; and I was a Polynesian girl. How many more? We take these bodies, and we have to leave them--but Love lives on. The heart and the mind continue. And our bond deepens, and deepens.

This is unintelligible to those who cling to the Materialistic conception. But let us put it this way. First, the mothers break free of convention, and then the soul-mates. The fire of love burns to ashes any fear of ridicule or shame. Then, the others timidly think, "Maybe there is more to this than the physical." Eventually, the very idea of "Materialism" is absurd. Who could ever have believed such nonsense?

I will tell you this much--I do like it when Steve so fondly remembers my young self in these different incarnations. I just don't want him grieving and imagining that that's all I was, or that I actually "died" when that body had to be given up. Think of life as a meal where you get the desert first. As young lovers, you partake of the delights; then comes the work, the work of one's purpose, whatever one had incarnated to do. And then comes the vacation, here in the astral realm. This is the normal course. It gets distorted by misunderstanding, and that has to be worked through. But in this normal course of life, there is nothing wrong with Steve admiring my young forms, you see. I quite appreciate it! As I fondly appreciate his. But not to get caught up in it. Don't lose sight of why you are on earth. Get the work done, learn the lessons, and you can enjoy a nice vacation together!

Steve was realizing, the other day, that his being forced, now, to become so extremely efficient as a full-time caretaker (also an author, in the mornings), is probably practice for our next lifetime together. We will have to be in charge of an organization--and all those skills he is developing now, will be required. You don't know what you are being prepared for. Have you offered to serve? Then rest assured that offer will be taken seriously. But first there must be the preparation; the character-building, the personal qualities developed. For that, you have to have obstacles. You must struggle in the obstructed universe, not in our "unobstructed universe," as Stewart Edward White's wife, Betty, put it. Develop the qualities by "slogging through the mud" on earth; then you will shine, here in heaven; and you will be worthy to take up the service you have so kindly offered to do.

Love to each and all,
Abby