I heard you and felt you my love you are just something else you are not content to remain in the physical plane you give me no rest I’m not complaining you are always here with me and I see hear and feel you. I am in your heart, no I am the heart of you. This is the beauty of it.
Scott, November 1996
Channeled Writing
With David on the other end of the line, I pulled the folded paper out of the green bag. “O.K.,” I told him, “I’ve got something.” “Are you holding it in your left hand?” “Yes,” I answered. “Good,” he said. “It’s cream colored, isn’t it?” “It sure is,” I replied. “Now, please don’t tell me what it is yet,” he requested before continuing on with his vision. “He’s smiling, but there’s a sadness there also. He’s saying ‘there’s something I wanted to do, but I didn’t. There’s something I didn’t do or say. I should have told you, I’m sorry. I meant to tell you…’” What could he be getting at? Had he really carried over some unresolved issues with him to the other side? If so what could they possibly be, and was there anything I could do to bring him some peace? Dee had also seen him smiling, but not picked up on the sadness. “There’s a whole lot he can do for you,” she’d briskly answered when I asked if there was anything I could do for him. “He says you can’t even polish my soul,” she’d reported chuckling, appreciating his humor.
David’s next words stunned me, interrupting my mental reverie. “He’s saying ‘I love you too much.‘” “Oh, my, God,” I thought to myself, a chill of confirmation running through me, “we’ve really got Scott on the line.” I recalled that day on the beach years before, that moment of eternity in which Scott had confided in Daviea “You know, sometimes I’m afraid I love Paul too much.” It suddenly seemed that the barriers keeping the “other side” firmly in place had begun to crumble, and the chill racing through me swelled into an unaccountable energy. I felt as if I were awakening within a dream, only to find myself still moving within it. “He’s standing next to a red car,” David continued. “He’s standing next to it, pointing to it. What is he trying to tell me? Does that make any sense to you?”
“I’m really not sure,” I answered, trying to remember if he’d ever driven a red car. “Do you think that he might be just referring to the fact that the object I’m holding is the directions I gave him to reach me in his car?” “Maybe, but I don’t think so,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “He’s gesturing with his right hand, trying to tell us something. Now the car’s changing color. It’s kind of burgundy, a sports car. And now it’s changing again to silver grayish, a foreign sportscar. What is he trying to tell me?” I got the sense David was asking the question rhetorically, immersed in his vision, so I offered no interpretations. Besides, I had no idea. I was just sitting back, experiencing the bizarre ride as it unfolded.
“Were the two of you supposed to go on a trip? One that never took place because…” “Yeah,” I cut in as he paused. “We’d scheduled a trip to Mississippi just before he died. He was really looking forward to it. We were going to fly into New Orleans on March 9 and then drive into Mississippi to meet up with some of his dear friends. But he died on the first.” “O.K., he’s saying ‘there’s an agreement of cars,” David continued. “That’s strange,” I thought, immediately realizing that I was being handed some kind of piece of the puzzle through this strange metaphor. Ideas began racing through my mind. He’d had three cars during the years of our relationship, but they weren’t those colors. I thought back to my dreams of communication. “If phones signify communication,” I thought, “cars must certainly symbolize traveling together, being on a journey together.”
“Oh, wait a minute,” David said, pausing. “I think I have an idea about what he’s getting at. You might be right about the reference to those directions, but there’s more to it. This ‘agreement’ he’s referring to definitely involves a journey the two of you are making together. One that is very much still continuing.” Even as I thought “That’s what I was just thinking,” David went on. “But there’s still more to it than that. He’s trying to get something across through these colors. Let’s see, first red, then burgundy, then silver.” After a moment of silence, he laughed and said “O.K., I got it. The colors themselves are part of the message here. He’s showing me a spiritual journey, really a quantum leap in the growth of the soul.”
“Really?,” I replied, full of curiosity, “how do you figure?” “Well, Paul, let me put it to you like this. Bear in mind, in receiving these messages from Scott, we’re translating messages from the other realm. He’s now in a different place, a better place. He’s back home in the spirit, where there are no hard edges or corners to blind a soul’s vision. Only forms of pure energy, with an expanding awareness of God’s love at the center.” As David paused briefly, I simply allowed the power and beauty of his words to wash over me. “Really,” he went on, “we can’t even imagine what it’s like. Or rather, it is not ours to remember right now. There’ll be time enough for that.”
“But the point is,” he went on, “he’s very much in the light now, and is reaching back through to us. And he’s trying to do that in a way we’ll understand despite our current limitations. Otherwise, what’s the point?” Deep in thought, I asked “So where exactly do the colors come in?” “Excellent question,” he responded, “because like I said, I feel like they’re a big part of his message. Remember that colors are nothing but light vibrating at different frequencies, different forms of energy, and we’re receiving this ‘transmission’ from a place of pure power. Each color signifies a certain frequency of energy, and whether I’m picking up on them as pure or kind of blended together, they each convey a message of their own. Really even better than a message in words, more pure in a way, if you just know how to interpret it.”
“And I guess Scott knows that work with frequencies of energy on the level of spirit, and especially color, is what I do. See,” he began to explain, “each color corresponds to one of the seven chakras in the spirit body.” Somewhere along the path of my long and winding spiritual journey, I’d learned that chakras represented energy centers of the spiritual/ mental/ physical body, each associated with different parts of the physical body and with its own spiritual function. At best, however, the concept was vague to me. “Red is the color of the first chakra, associated with the base of the spine, signifying the beginning of personal and spiritual growth.” David continued. “It’s the first step, having to do with self-awakening and the realization of the power within. It makes sense that that would be the foundation, the first level of the agreement.”
“The interesting thing here, though,” he went on, “is the leap in the next step right up to burgundy, or indigo, the combination of red and blue. That’s associated with the sixth energy chakra, next to the highest level.” He briefly paused, apparently pondering the idea, then continued. “You have to understand, there’s been a huge leap here. This energy level corresponds to the higher levels of spiritual awakening, the tapping into the higher power. As the ‘third eye,’ the eye of the spirit, begins to open wide, the growth of the soul is accelerated. And then finally, he’s showing me the silver, one of the very highest levels. The highest chakra is pure white, signifying wholeness and unity with God. Either silver or gold signify levels of energy that you or I would call ‘Heaven.’”
“Boy,” he said, “that’s some agreement you guys have.” Momentarily stunned by the intensity of the message and its strange beauty, I was quiet as David’s visions continued to unfold. My breath had been taken away, but he apparently had no time to linger. “Yeah, he’s showing me again that that trip didn’t materialize. I see a duality, first him, then you, on the right side, then the left side. It was on that trip that he was going to convey something to you.” What might that message have been, planned during that homecoming he had so looked forward to sharing with me? Might it have had something to do with our sixth anniversary, or the party we’d planned in its celebration? Could he be referring to the spiritual communion we’d savored the night of our visit to Leake Street? Or, as now flashed through my mind, might it somehow involve Jeff’s vision of that place during the journey he’d undertaken on my behalf that summer night in Seattle?
Though I could not be sure, these richly poetic glimpses of imagery from the other side set my imagination soaring as usual. Life suddenly seemed highly surreal, and I thought to myself “Can I really be having this experience in my law office?” Yet again, I supposed, Scott was proving a point. Yes, he seemed to be saying, even here!
Stumble It!