Time Odyssey: The Soul's Memory; Part III: Awakening

By J. F. Weckesser

Rachel, a survivor of a lonely and bleak childhood, now is recovering from a car accident that killed her husband and unborn child. Heartbroken and suicidal, she heads north to Canada to find ‘the perfect place’ to kill herself.

Driving through a peculiar mist, she comes upon a small community in the forest—and Aaron. Aaron remembers her from past lives, but she has no memory of anything before her tragic childhood.

Aaron tries to break through Rachel's hard shell of protection to help her realize who she really is, to remind her of her purpose, and to continue where they left off.

Part III of the trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. F. Weckesser
• Release date: Aug 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301633531

J. F. Weckesser

Legends and myths of lost continents have always intrigued me, and as a longtime member of the Rosicrucian Order, AMORC, and also the Association for Research and Enlightenment, one day “Time Odyssey: The Soul’s Memory” began to unfold in my mind: What would it have been like to live in those days? Curiously enough, I saw the world as a male for the first two books of the trilogy, and as a woman in the third.I believe even our greatest heroes and masters were human, and probably struggled with their own hopes, fears, desires, misgivings, lapses of judgment, joys and sorrows—especially during the dark and scary times. It is the rising above these roadblocks that make the hero. A Zen proverb says, "The obstacle is the Path."My present home is in Wisconsin, but I spent many years in California. My heart belongs in both areas.

Book preview

Time Odyssey: The Soul’s Memory

Part III: Awakening

By J.F. Weckesser

Smashwords Edition

Second Edition

Copyright 2013 J.F. Weckesser

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

* * * *

My deepest thanks to Gary, Davia,

and the great Mystery of Mysteries—the Source.

* * * *

Part 3: Awakening

Chapter 1- Builders of the Lodge

Chapter 2 - Rachel’s sadness

Chapter 3 - A winter’s journey

Chapter 4- The Lodge

Chapter 5 - The Temple

Chapter 6 - Aaron’s kindness

Chapter 7 - Guardians of the Records

Chapter 8 - Finding the Sacred Road

* * * *

(Author’s note: Some foreign language symbols cannot be reproduced properly in all eBook formats, so have been spelled out phonetically.)

Chapter 1

10,000 B.C.E.

At the first glow of dawn a small group—six men, six women—left their camp. They were relatively sure of their destination, but would rely on their intuition for the exact location of their long journey’s end.

They had cleaned up their small overnight forest dwelling, grateful for remnants of Atlantean technology which gave them these lightweight, sturdy and weatherproof tents and blankets. Dividing the equipment and supplies, they strapped everything on their backs and, just before they left, the strongest man hoisted up his burden—a heavy bundle wrapped in dark cloth.

It was still cold, as the sun hadn’t yet risen to warm the air to a more tolerable cool. Although it was mid-summer and the portion of glacier which had long covered this land had melted and retreated north over a hundred years ago, ice lingered in the deeper gullies and sunless areas, and the air was always brisk.

The forest was still rather young, as it had taken time for the winds to blow seeds and birds to leave droppings and animals to shed fur with attached burs; but now trees—pine, cedar, maple, spruce, fir, aspen, birch and even a few oak—were well-rooted in with the grasses and ferns, and they grew tall and strong in the rubble left from the ice. Indeed, there were some here and there with trunks wide enough that large men could barely wrap their arms around them and touch fingertips.

The travelers wrapped themselves in cloaks of red, green, brown and blue, which contrasted with the white and gray robes underneath.

A gust of wind blew, and they brushed shoulder-length hair from their eyes and faces, adjusted their headbands more firmly and headed into the misty wood. All but one had black hair, an elderly man’s whose remaining wisps were white.

The old man was an immigrant from the eastern land that no longer existed. He alone remained, having lost all his original fellow travelers, one by one, to the harsh environment of this wild land. Those about him today were grandchildren of Atlan, born in this new place.

This had not been an easy journey, and their story had been added to the Records—how they struggled to survive during and after the terrible tsunamis of the Destruction, scrabbling out a humble existence in this severe new climate. Now, after all these many years, he was confident that the great mission was nearly finished—a mission that had started over 50 years ago.

They walked all morning, making their way slowly through the woods and marshlands. The sun was nearly overhead now and the small band continued, stopping only now and then to allow the old one to rest.

They were circling around a bog when they stopped suddenly. A twig had snapped in the woods before them.

They waited. Man or beast?

Then, out from behind the trees four people appeared, cautiously at first, until they ascertained these were the newcomers they were expecting. It was hard to tell if they were male or female, as humble brown cloaks and hoods of wool and woven grasses hid them nearly completely.

They were tall and slender, and their feet were fully wrapped—as were the Atlanteans—but theirs were crude, simply strips of bark cloth, wool and lined with down.

The two groups stood motionless a few moments, staring. Then, almost simultaneously, they lifted their hands in greeting.

The people of the forest lowered their cowls, and the Atlanteans saw their peculiar features, so different than their own golden skin and black almond-shaped eyes. These tall ones had round dark eyes and light brown skin, dark brown hair which was pulled back and tied at the nape. But the most unusual feature was a small protuberance in the middle of the forehead.

Their original homeland, Mu, had been lost under the sea for fifteen thousand years, but they still lived apart from the rest of the world, finding shelter in the high places where they kept their history and culture intact. These four had come from the mountains far to the west.

The Atlanteans knew them at once—these were the Murians they were seeking, whom they had been communicating with for quite some time in their meditations. These were their friends and comrades.

Now as one unit they trailed through the woods until they came to a tiny community made up of two large mud