Abby's journal

 

 

May 3, 2018

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Steve was idly talking to me as he prepared breakfast, looking out his attic window at the tree in the front yard with its newly-budding leaves, "You used to play songs that fit the season...not that that was unusual...and you played 'Come, Gentle Spring' about this time." I answered, "Or I would have, if I'd been there with the piano at that time." And Steve thought a minute, and realized that I was not in Portland with him in the Spring of 1840 (because I was elsewhere convalescing from consumption), and we had not moved to Portland yet, or didn't have a piano yet, in the Spring of 1839; and I died late March of 1841.

Along with that thought, Steve felt my nostalgia, and he asked me, "I know how I feel about being back in Portland, but what do you feel about it? Is it nostalgic, for you? Do feel that we are getting a chance, now, in a sense, to fulfill what we were never able to do completely, there?"

And he felt me concurring, that I, also, felt this.

Then Steve began thinking--or, I began thinking with him--"You know, when a medium like John Edward conveys that the person on the other side is marking an upcoming anniversary date, a wedding or a birthday, the psychic will say, "This is just their way of letting you know that they see what is going on in your life." Well, that's not exactly true. It's not "just" that, suggesting that it was just a trick to provide evidence for you. We feel the same nostalgia you do, and furthermore, many of us, here, are afraid that what meant so much to us, will slowly come to mean less, to you. We want you to know how much it still means, to us.

So, yes, it means a great deal to me that Steve wants to fulfill our dreams and hopes of living in Portland. And I am right there with him, on this.

Now, we will put this as Steve's thought, and Steve's question, because he can't definitely say it came from me. But perhaps I can "weigh in." There is a handsome young couple who live below Steve's attic apartment. The fellow was kind enough to help Steve bring up a cabinet that Steve had purchased, used, for the bathroom the other day. Steve was idly thinking, "In some sense, could that young couple be us? And when we were the young couple, was there an older fellow who lived upstairs, whom we helped move a cabinet?" In other words, do people play "musical chairs" in these different roles, as directed by karma, from one lifetime to another? Are we, in fact, continually meeting ourselves, as it were?

Hmmm....I would say it can't be any other way, because there are a limited number of "building blocks" that the illusion of each incarnation is made of. Does that make sense? Steve is just channeling the thought, without having fully digested it. It is beyond my ability to fully explain to him, given the limitations of our channeling method. He can "see" or "sense" the thought, but he can't develop it fully, into words.

But he will try. This life is not so complex, or real, as you might imagine. It is an appearance made of far fewer elements than you might suppose. It is, as it were, "made real out in front of you." Does that make sense? Steve is getting a little nervous, because he is seeing the image of a person walking down the street, and the only part of it that is real is the part 10 feet in front of him. Sort of like the image on his GPS machine.

The GPS is an interesting analogy. Steve has been observing the people with dementia at the nursing home where he has a shift, as a caretaker. And he can't help comparing them to what happens to his GPS when he gets on the road to the facility. That road has not yet been...

Steve had to stop and butter his toast, which had just popped out of the toaster, but I was still channeling!

That road has not yet been added to the GPS's map, so the visual shows the little arrow heading slowly and aimlessly into space!

But now Steve has lost the train of thought from me, and he is loath to just start writing in my stead. He can take a break, here. I certainly don't want to stop him from eating! (You can't know the fondness I feel for him, how I care for him and look out for him from here.)

Steve says when he looks in the mirror, he looks ugly, to himself, and old, and he is getting older. He wonders that I can love him. But he doesn't understand what I see. Modesty prevents us channeling how I love and admire him. But I had this problem, as well. As a young woman, I had a terrible self-image. I had been mocked (not by my family, but by the village girls). I did not fit the standard of beauty at the time, which was big and ample--able to bear a succession of children to work the farm, to support the couple in their old age--while I was tiny and thin. I thought I had a big nose, and it had freckles, which I thought were horrible blemishes, and I had big eyes like a hoot owl, very intellectual. Awful.

But Mathew saw a princess (a French "dauphine"), an angel. He thought I was exquisitely beautiful, spiritual, and if my bosom wasn't ample, he much preferred my ample mind. He thought my every movement was grace, itself; and my mind both deep, and quick. He waited with eager anticipation for my wry comments, after I had silently observed a scene or a social situation. We were soul-mates; he felt we were birds of a feather, or as Forrest Gump expressed it about his Jenny, "peas and carrots."

I couldn't see any of that at first; but gradually (after first accusing him of flattery!), I began to see myself as he saw me, and it was a profound healing for me. But I have described all this, before.

So Steve needn't worry. Oh, have I told you all that Steve is embarrassed when some girl or other suddenly reminds him of me, and he feels a magnetic attraction to her? You might find this interesting. Steve has been reading a short story written by a close friend of his, the first editor of the Portland "Transcript" (the literary newspaper, in the early 1840's, after I had passed on). In that story, a young woman reminds an older woman of her late husband--and in true Victorian style, it turns out they are actually mother and daughter, separated by the tragedy at sea which claimed her husband so many years ago. But when Steve read the following passage, he immediately said to himself: "This is me...this is something I shared in deep confidence with Charles, the author, about seeing women who reminded me of Abby." So Mathew, also, had the same reaction that Steve has, today. Nothing has changed, in this regard. Of course what Mathew didn't admit to Charles was that he was looking--he was helplessly driven, in his grief for me, to look for any woman who reminded him of me; and then all his grief would go into that glimpse. It became such a strong habit, that Steve still has it, today. Thus are we all living, or re-living, our past lives, whether we consciously realize it, or not. To a large degree, we are picking up our old habits.

How frequently in our walks through life do we meet with persons, utter strangers, who remind us of some friend or acquaintance long since gone to his rest. There may be nothing in the general features that awakens the association, nothing indeed which we can account for or define, yet there is a certain something which seems to recall as by magic the departed. Perhaps, if we scan the countenance in search of the likeness, we are unsuccessful; and yet a hasty glance reveals it to us in all its truthfulness. A peculiarity in a smile, it may be, a particular expression about the lips or the eyes, a slight inclination of the head or movement of the body, some such trivial cause touches the electric chain of memory, and the image of the loved and mourned is brought for an instant before us, as in the fleeting phantasms of a dream.

Matt didn't feel closure about my death, because I had died at my parents' home, while he had stayed back in Portland. Or at least this is what Steve has determined from all the historical clues. Matt had also read enough of the occult, to wonder whether I could ever come back to him. Our first medium said that I did appear to him several times after I had first crossed over. So all this meant that he was constantly looking, hoping that he might see me in the crowd. And this, gradually, over the years, became simply a habit of looking for a girl he could have the same kind of marriage with, i.e., a replacement. This folly got him into serious hot water a few times!

But he picked up the habit again, unknowingly, in his current lifetime, where it also got him into hot water a number of times. Until he finally realized that I am not incarnate, still. I have remained in the astral realm, waiting for him to "catch up." He had to develop, spiritually, to the point where we can be together again. And I had to wait.

But now the waiting is over, or, it might as well be. Steve longs to see my face, and my expressions, and to talk freely with me in a more mutual manner. But remember, we long for the same things you do, especially with our soul-mate. Never forget this. We have not become impassive angels (however much Matt thought I was angelic). We don't have the gross earthly, physical passions, but we still love passionately, in the personal sense. We love you more than you can imagine. And it is not impersonal--it is just exactly as it always was.

Now, very often Steve wants to wind down my entries, when I am finished. But today, he thinks that is a good stopping point, but I am giving him the feeling that I am not finished yet!

There is something I want to relate...but what is it? Steve has his "antennae out" but can't get anything from me...

I am telling him, "Back to that quoted passage." So he will re-read the passage, and see if it sparks anything...

Okay, he read the first few words and got this train of thought. Why love one particular person, so? All souls are beautiful, as they truly are. Why not love many persons, or all persons?

Steve could answer from his own ideas, but what he feels from me, is that soul-mates have touched the core of Reality. Not once, but many times. Together, they have found what is real in life. That touching of Reality is permanent. It EXISTS in the present. Over and over, they come together in this world of change and flux, to touch the place that never changes, the place where they are both REAL. This is vouchsafed only to the soul-mates. It cannot be experienced with others, and if you try, you encounter entanglements. Only the soul-mates can cut through the layer of entanglements, and reach this Core of Now, together. Does that make intuitive sense? They are moths to the flame of Now, having been delightfully "scorched" by its brilliance many times. They seek that place where they have found Eternity, in this world of constant change.

That place is all Love. When they find it together, they then turn outward to share that love with the world; but not by attempting to replicate their own relationship with other men and women. As a couple, in their sacred union, they then reach out to the world, to share their love. This is the correct, proper sequence, for the soul-mate path. Now, always take what I say as my opinion, never as "gospel." But I think Steve has channeled my thoughts pretty accurately, in this regard.

So he is trying to slowly undo this habit of his grief, so many years ago, of feeling magnetically attracted to young women who remind him of myself at that age. It will take time to release its power, which was motivated by grief. He has no need to grieve me anymore; but it takes time for the emotional self to capitulate a long-time habit like this. So long as he is trying, I am never impatient with him. I am pleased that he sees it for what it is, and is slowly dismantling it at its source. I know that he means no disloyalty, by it.

Now I am done, for today.

Love to each and all,
Abby