Samara's Story

By Samara

Join the author as she travels back over 2000 years to visit with a miraculous woman in the holy land. Open the door and walk into a world where people are more connected to the land, to nature, and to God. Explore a time where people didnt separate their religious beliefs from their daily lives. Awaken and explore the rituals and the richness in everyday life.

The story follows the life of Samara as she grows up in her Uncle Binyamins house on the road to Jerusalem after losing her mother when she was just an infant. Her cousin Joshua surreptitiously affords her the opportunity to obtain something few women of that time had; an education. Equipped with knowledge, a strong connection to God and a very inquisitive mind, Samara defies the odds and leads a most extraordinary life; especially for a woman.

In an age when women were subservient to men Samara disregards convention and becomes a strong, independent woman. But this is more than just the story of Samara. This is a modern day parable meant for all WOMEN (and the men who care about them). Even today women still struggle with the tension between their more traditional, child-raising, supportive roles and the modern, liberated, successful, leadership roles that are now permissible.

So, come along with Samara on a profoundly moving, deeply inspiring walk back in time. Partake of this divine mystery and allow yourself to be inducted into the deeper mysteries of who we really are. May the light that shines through Samara illuminate your own life and reveal your own true path. If something deep within you begins to stir honor it. If not just sit back and enjoy the story. Either way, it will take you somewhere you have never been before.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452562759

Samara

  Samara was raised in St. Louis MO. with four older brothers. Her father was a prominent doctor and she grew up in a traditional, conservative family. Her spiritual transformation began in the 1990’s after becoming a hypnotherapist. Since then she has been blessed to work with such enlightened masters as Brugh Joy M.D., Doreen Virtue, Stanislav Grof and John Perkins. In addition she has also been touched by and credits the teachings of Louise Hay, Wayne Dyer and Deepak Chopra among others. In addition to acting as the vessel for the second book, which is now coming through, Samara continues to do readings for those who seek her out. She also continues to “practice the art” of opening to the divine in a number of ways. In addition to meditation, Samara is a devotee of hot yoga and believes it is an essential ingredient in helping clear her mind and body. Along with a healthy diet this helps her align herself with the higher vibrational energies so she can be a clear, open vessel for whatever wants to come through. Samara is also an avid cook and enjoys preparing abundant feasts for family and friends. She is also something of a wine connoisseur. As Robert Mondavi once said; “Wine to me is passion. It’s family and friends. It's warmth of heart and generosity of spirit. Wine is art. It's culture. It's the essence of civilization and the art of living.” Samara resides in Arizona with her family.

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SAMARA’S

STORY

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SAMARA

Copyright © 2012 Samara

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, internet review, blog, or broadcast.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-6274-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-6275-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-6276-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012921248

Balboa Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1-[phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Visit Insights4Change.com for more information

Cover photograph The Open Door and Author photograph by Kathryn Lucas

Balboa Press rev. date: 01/07/2013

Contents

Preface

Part I

The Long Road Home

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Part II

A Strong and Independent Woman

8

9

10

11

12

Part III

I Was Told That The House of Binyamin

Is The Place to Lodge

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

Part IV

I Have a Child Now. His Name is Elan

22

23

24

Part V

A Glimpse Past The Veil

25

26

Preface

Samara’s Story began to unfold shortly after I attended a workshop conducted by spiritual clairvoyant, psychologist and author Doreen Virtue.

During the workshop, Doreen asked us to practice the art of reaching beyond the veil. I was not quite sure what she meant by that, but my journey began all the same. Suddenly, something deep within me awoke. I could feel a field of energy surging all around me. It became so strong, I felt as though I was not in control and that the energies would literally consume me. Doreen must have sensed something, and she began to approach me. Something or someone wanted to use me as a vessel, to use my physical body as a voice box to communicate. I wanted to hold back, but Doreen encouraged me to move through it, and move through it I did. Amazingly, there I was standing up in front of a group of more than 50 people, allowing this energy to take over my voice and speak out for all to hear.

I have no clear recollection of exactly what came through me that fateful day, but that was how I began practicing the art of reaching beyond the veil. After the weekend workshop, Doreen and I emailed each other a couple of times. She would ask me questions, particularly in regards to placing myself around the times of Jesus. As I sat down to respond to her questions, I felt a directing energy (some might say a guide) come to me and speak, or write through me. That happened a few times. I soon found that I liked to play with these new energies and make beautiful music with them, like a harpist who enjoys pulling, plucking and picking her instrument’s strings.

Then one day as I sat down to the computer, I felt a strong presence around me. I could feel my body begin to open to this presence. It was almost as if each cell in my body expanded, and my being extended beyond the outline of my physical body. As my fingers touched the keyboard of the computer, Samara’s Story began to pour out. As I finished typing the first few sessions, I felt an overwhelming sense of awe. Wow, I would say to myself, How did this come out of me? I am not even a writer. Then, like a wave gently washing over me, the profundity of what was happening started to settle in. This was not written by me. Rather, I was privileged to be the vessel through which this story came forth.

This is how Samara’s Story evolved. I would sit at my computer and simply relax. Soon, an older man from another time would appear and approach me. In my mind’s eye he appeared as a sage or a prophet from biblical times. He told me he was Isaiah. Could it possibly be? Old Testament Prophet Isaiah? I certainly had my doubts. At first, I questioned whether I was losing touch with reality. Was I going off the deep end? Coming from a conservative, straight-laced family where I willingly played the role of dutiful daughter, this was pretty far-out stuff.

This was also a period of great upheaval in my personal life. Within a year of catching a glimpse of what lies beyond the veil, I ended a 13-year marriage and took on being a single mother to three beautiful girls. My father, who I loved dearly and was caring for, passed on. And as if that was not enough, I was also diagnosed with thyroid cancer. It seemed as if something had to literally be ripped out of my throat so that this other voice could emerge. Finally, as Samara’s Story began drawing to a close, I met a wonderful man, moved with my girls across the country out west and began a new life. Completing the transformation, in addition to taking on a new last name when I was remarried, I adopted my ancestral name, shedding my given name, Marcia, and stepping fully into Samara.

Despite my misgivings and all the chaos in my life, on a very deep level I had a knowing that this was a divine, mystical gift and that I was being asked to serve. Initially, I stumbled forward in fits and starts. Eventually, as I let go of my resistance and judgment, the material seemed to come through with the ease of a summer breeze. The more I willingly opened myself to being the humble servant of Isaiah, the more rhapsodic the story became.

At first, Isaiah would come with a parchment scroll in hand, unroll it, and the words from the parchment would jump off the page and into my fingers. Without thought, my fingers would move across the keyboard as if they were not connected to the rest of my body. I was not even aware of what I was typing. Only after the session was over could I go back and read what had been transcribed that day.

The first line of the book is forever seared into my very being: I have come to visit the WOMAN of 2000 years ago. After I typed that first section, I thought to myself, yes, it is I who is visiting the WOMAN, for we do not live just in the now; there are many aspects of ourselves that live then, now and simultaneously. It hit me in a very powerful way, because I realized at that moment that we are not just one-dimensional. We are of many dimensions and many times. And yes, the word WOMAN is capitalized with intent. The word woman normally stands for just one woman; but WOMAN holds the archetypal energy of many woman, because many have and continue to live their lives woven within the grand tapestry of women throughout the ages.

I have been blessed in my time as Isaiah’s scribe. It has allowed me to open to the wonderment of the essence of who I really am, and to visit thousands of years into the past to meet the woman I was then, and to catch a glimpse of the true essence of human nature. So now I invite you to take a walk with me, back into a time or space where the pureness of who you are is allowed to come through and show itself without all the filters of the ego. Allow yourself to be inducted into the deeper mysteries of who we really are, and why we are here. Open up to the paradox of being one, and at the same time, being one with the universe. Let the story take you by the hand and guide you through this magical, mystical journey. If something from deep within you begins to stir while you are reading this book, honor it and experience your own awakening. But if this is not to be your time then just sit back and enjoy the story. Either way, it will take you somewhere you have never been before.

With love, honor and wonderment…

Samara

"Come,

Let us go to the Mount of the Lord,

To the House of the YAHWEH of Jacob;

That he may instruct us in His Ways,

And that we may walk in His paths.

For instruction shall come forth from Zion,

The word of the Lord from Jerusalem.

Thus He will judge among the nations

And arbitrate for the many peoples,

And they shall beat their swords into plowshares

And their spears into pruning hooks:

Nation shall not take up

Sword against nation:

They shall never again know war."

Isaiah 2: 3-4

Reader’s Note: This book contains three distinct voices, the actual story as told by Samara, the woman from 2000 years ago, Isaiah and the other guides that came through me, and my own comments as I was transcribing the story. To clearly delineate these different voices Isaiah will appear in Title Caps, (the first letter of each word is capitalized), my own thoughts and comments appear in italics, and the story itself appears in normal text.

The story also uses the term Tzadik. This literally translates into righteous one, and commonly means an enlightened master. For someone to truly be a Tzadik, it means that they must completely let go of their ego and give in to their higher self so that they experience only the love and awe of God without material temptations. The Talmud says that at least 36 Tzadikim Nistarim (anonymous or hidden Tzadikim) are living among us, and it is for their sake alone that the world is not destroyed.

Part I

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The Long Road Home

1

I have come to visit the WOMAN of over 2000 years ago.

WALKING ALONG THE DUSTY ROAD, a strong, earthy odor from a nearby herd of sheep fills the air. After my long journey, I can finally see my destination. As I approach, enticing aromas coming from inside the dwelling gradually replace the musty scents of the land. The smell of freshly baked bread from the hearth seems to dance with the spices wafting up from smoked meats. There is a richness in the mingling essences of the different spices and delicate fragrances that makes me feel light and wonderful.

The WOMAN greets me and invites me in. She is dressed in a beautiful, long, flowing robe, and is wearing a headdress vibrant in all the colors and shades of the rainbow. She asks me to take off my shoes and sit down, and offers me a drink. It is a drink that I recognize, but I just cannot seem to place, although the aroma and taste are so familiar. As I enjoy this elixir I can feel its calming effect on me. She tells me that we have much to talk about, but that she wants me to bathe first since I have journeyed on foot from so far away.

After I finish my drink, she takes me by the hand and leads me to the room where I will be sleeping the night. Her handmaiden brings me fresh clothes to change into after my bath. She directs her handmaiden in a different tongue as to how she wants to bathe and dress me. Then she turns to me and says that after I have bathed, rested and dressed, we will meet. We will have supper and then talk, she says, for she has waited a long time for this meeting and is full of anticipation and excitement for this day. I hug her warmly and feel an intense closeness to her—her mere presence seems to fill my spirit with pure joy and love. I turn my head to watch her leave the room, knowing that I will be with her again soon.

Her handmaiden then directs me to a different area, where she undresses me and helps me into the bath waters. It is a large enclosure of water, and the bath waters feel so cool and refreshing against my skin. The handmaiden adds drops of precious oil to the water, and the natural aroma of the oil makes my body tingle and my head feel light. I love the feeling of it; it makes me feel sensual and uninhibited. The handmaiden comes over to me and washes my skin and hair ever so gently. Her touch is so soft and soothing, and her voice is so calm. She hums a gentle tune that makes me feel so at ease, as if I do not have a care in the world but to just enjoy and feel wonderful. I touch her arm softly and ask her what her name is and she replies Rivkah. I thank her for her kindness and her gentle touch. I ask Rivkah what her lady’s name is, and she tells me that soon I will find out.

Rivkah helps me out of the bath waters and wraps me in cloths until I am dry. She rubs more aromatic oils on my body and tells me how soft and beautiful my skin is. I hug Rivkah because she seems so familiar to me, and the hug comes from my heart. I feel such love for her and I do not question why. She walks me over to the dressing area and asks me to raise my arms over my head so that she can dress me. As she adorns me, a sense of my own beauty washes over me. I feel the smooth, sensual silk of the dress as it cascades down my body. Rivkah then guides me over to the bed and asks that I rest, for I have had a long journey and will have much to talk about with my hostess. She tells me that I need my rest. I remember putting my head on my pillow, and that is the last thing I recall.

It seems like only a short time before Rivkah comes back and awakens me from my sleep. I stretch my body across the bed and slowly get up to greet her and hear what she has to say. Rivkah tells me that she will finish dressing me now. She guides me over to a table and chair and asks me to sit so that she can brush my hair. She tells me that she loves my long, dark, wavy hair. As she brushes it, I am tingling with delight. It feels like a wonderful massage and relaxes me so. I gradually get up from the chair with her help. She then takes my left hand and guides me into the room where my hostess is sitting. Rivkah bows graciously to both of us and leaves the room.

My hostess, in her warm way, waves with her hand for me to come and sit next to her. She has two goblets of wine and some delectable fruits and meats waiting for us to devour. I didn’t realize I was so hungry until now. I feel almost famished. So we sit together in silence and eat from the beautiful display of fruits and meats and drink wine. When we are finished, Rivkah returns to take the food away and then leaves us alone.

I feel so comfortable, as if I am in my own house. The WOMAN looks at me and says, You are.

How did you know what I was thinking? I ask her. I didn’t even say a thing.

You don’t have to, she replies, for we are the same. Then I realized that I was looking into a mirror of myself, and that she is I and I am she. Then we hug each other, for I feel one with her and I love her. For she is why I am who I am today. I ask her what her name is and she replies, I am Samara. The name reverberates inside of my body and echoes in my mind. It feels like it is my own name. Then she begins to tell me the story of us. For it is truly US.

2

ISAIAH, MY SCRIBE, STARTS OFF this session by stating the following:

We Are Ready To Start Transcribing, For There Is Important Information That Needs To Be Put Forth. There Is Much Going On In Your Times Of Now, And Many Are Living Parallel Lives Of Times Before. This Is The Time To Relive Things, To Walk Through Your Emotions To Make Yourself A Clear Channel, And You Do This By Re-Living, Re-Experiencing And Re-Emotionalizing It. At This Time On Your Earth Plane, It Feels Like Time Is Being Compressed, With So Many Activities And Events Being Squeezed Into Your Lives. It Is No Longer A Long Stretch Of Linear Time, But Of Simultaneous Time, Because That It Is How It Really Is, With All Time Running Together: Past, Present And Future. That Is Why Spirit Is Presenting Many People At This Time The Opportunity To See The Parallels In Their Lives, So They Can Work Through It And Not Have Their Energies Drawn Back Into Time. If All Can Do This, Then All People Will Be Living In The NOW. It Is The NOW That Makes A Difference In Your Living. In The NOW Is Where Your Power Is.

Samara continues to tell me the story of when she was a little baby, in a land not too far away from here. She holds my left hand in her lap, and as she begins to tell of her life of many years ago, she gently reminds me that this is our story. As I look into her sparkling green eyes, I know this to be true.

She starts by describing the conditions of the time:

It is a very hot day. The sun is unrelenting, and the desert winds are blowing dirt and brush into dust devils that spin across the ground. The land is dry and parched, for there have been no rains in a long time to quench the thirst of the earth. I hear a lot of commotion around me. It sounds like people are packing up their houses and getting ready to leave. In the background I hear the anxious cries of those who do not want to leave their cherished dwellings and possessions behind. Through the commotion, we hear a man run into the main section of the village and call out to residents to hurry and pack—the Romans will be entering the village soon. Hurry, Hurry, he says. There is not much time. They will be here by sunset. The villagers are so frightened that they cannot think straight. Everyone seems scared and panicked, scurrying around like they have lost their heads.

I am in my parent’s house rocking in a little woven cradle that my father made for me.

When Samara reaches this point in the story, I feel myself go back in time with her as if I am also one with this baby. My hostess Samara continues...

I feel calm and content as I watch my mother move around the room. She moves with such ease, and as she moves she sings a beautiful song. She is busy packing her belongings, and as she does she talks and coos with me, and brushes the tips of her fingers across my cheek. How I love my mother so. I do not have a care in the world as long as I see my mother.

My mouth starts to feel dry, and I am starting to get those pangs of hunger in my stomach. I start to scream and cry and wiggle about. My mother comes over to me, picks me up and holds me tight to her chest. She loosens her right breast from her robe, and I attach my mouth to her nipple. The milk of her breast feels so soothing to my palate, and once again I feel so loved, nourished and protected. While she nurses me, she hums so softly. It is welcome music to my ears, a reassuring and uplifting sound. I am happy.

A man enters the doorway, and I recognize him. He is my father. He whispers into my mother’s ear that we need to hurry and put our belongings on the donkey outside, that many people are already packed and leaving to the North. My mother finishes nursing me and holds me upright for a bit before she places me again into my woven cradle. Again, I watch her flow through the room, getting things done in her graceful manner no matter what the task.

The motion of her movements plus the soft rocking of the cradle have put me into a deep sleep. When I awake, I am no longer in my house but wrapped around my mother’s back as she walks on the parched dirt road. I can feel the heat of the noonday sun on my back. The air is hot, dry and dusty. Donkeys struggle under their loads to keep pace. Sheep and goats run loose, adding to the chaos. I hear the moans of small babies who cannot tolerate the rugged conditions they find themselves in; their harried mothers cannot take the time now to stop and console them. The days of our journey seem endless. Our time is filled with walking, resting, eating and sleeping. It seems like our trek will never end. In the evening when we have camped, I hear my mother telling my father that she is tired and not sure if she can complete the trip.