Souls Blossom in Winter

By Reese Jula

From day one, Bridget Julia McNeil has grown up quickly. As a child of the ’60s, girl of the ’70s, and teenager of the ’80s, she learns to navigate her own path, stumbling and regaining her balance along the way.
That path takes her from her childhood home in Colorado to Mexico, Hawaii, and, finally, on a great adventure in the Philippines, Thailand, Nepal, and India at the age of sixteen. Love and the search for enlightenment suffuse her travels.
What she does not realize is that her journey has a guide: from a place near the center of all creation, the spirit Darius watches over Bridget, making sure she is always safe and on the right track in a mission she has no idea she is on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982265106

Reese Jula

The vision for the trilogy, Darius’ Endless Cord, came streaming through during six weeks of daily meditations in Auroville, India. Reese Jula has been a healer most of her life. Her healing modalities have taken many forms, from therapeutic touch to energetic karmic clearings. From 2003 to 2013, she led a nonprofit organization, Sustainable Global Leadership Alliance, dedicated to teaching young adults new paradigm thinking and sustainability practices. A loving mother, grandmother of five, wife, and multi-dimensional Soul, Reese lives in the high desert of New Mexico. Spirals of Light is the 3rd and final book in the series “Darius’ Endless Cord.”

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models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Edit and Copyedit by Grace Labatt Parazzoli

Front Book Cover design by James Swagerty

Interior Image Credit: Lauren Grace Garceau

ISBN: 978-1-9822-6509-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-6510-6 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/08/2021

DEDICATION

To my daughter Cozette, son Jamiel

and husband Paul.

To my four grandsons,

Kai, Rowan, Isley, and Nekoli.

To the expression of Art in all of us.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgment

Origin Of The Story

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I thank Paul for encouraging

my passion to write and for the endless hours

he spent editing this novel with me.

I thank Grace for supporting me to be a better writer.

To James for his exquisite book cover Art.

And for my readers Linda and Shannon.

I send out waves of gratitude and love

to all the souls that have touched my life.

Thank you for expanding your consciousness,

waking up and challenging

the status quo.

ORIGIN OF THE STORY

You could say that I’ve been watching her the whole time, like a guardian or the one who shows the way. When a soul is on a mission, I am not allowed to interfere. No matter where the soul’s constellation of light goes, I follow. My role is to inspire, nudge, and reveal through visions, dreams, and insights. Darius shared his words telepathically with a recently initiated human-guide. All communications outside the Earth realms were emitted through clairvoyance.

In a region not far from the epicenter of all creation, there is a place that houses souls in transition, a network of linked opalescent edifices assembled into dodecahedrons. Whether souls are brand new or between physical incarnations, they reside there—for moments or eons.

Darius motioned for his protégé to follow him into a private hollow globe of energy.

I’d like to show you parts of my journey. I believe that will help you to comprehend the position you are adopting.

The two glided into the viewing sphere and hovered in front of a concave screen. The opening behind them vanished. A vast array of three-dimensional images zoomed upon the screen. One showed the inhabited planets of the galaxy where Darius had once lived. Others were of his soul in human incarnation, a female.

Darius enjoyed revisiting these flashpoints. Like the moment when he had experienced his own birthing process. Or his choice to be trained as a guide. His initial assignment, a baby soul.

He pointed toward one of the holographic scenes of the center of the cosmos. Observe carefully through these themes of reference.

I will, the apprentice replied, studying attentively.

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Darius and the other guides paused in awe, bewildered by the womb in the center of the universe. It was birthing forth a group of original souls. Each was a unique manifestation of the heart of creation. He felt himself pulled to one in particular. As soon as he beheld the dazzling multicolored countenance, Darius chose.

Jewels. I will name you Jewels because of the intricate features I observe in your essence.

That was that. The new soul’s name was confirmed in the Hall of Records near the center of creation.

All that Darius had ever learned was accessible within his core consciousness. He was to share his awareness and allow Jewels to choose her initial path for evolution. In a secluded area of the domicile of transition, Darius danced with Jewels’s soul constellation as she learned how to bring more density to her light body. He transmitted to Jewels the multidimensional options to unfold one’s self by being either etheric or incarnate in the physical realms. Earth was one such place to which a new soul might want to advance. Jewels received, considered, and digested the possibilities.

When Darius was confident that she was ready to be introduced to the council of light, they traveled through a maze of black holes to the galactic region of the council. The exterior of the opaque crystal dome was imbued with the flower of life symbol, a reminder of the inseparable quality of all creation. It lingered, floating in dark space. Jewels’s light body atoms shuddered as they neared the formation.

From the dome, souls could be transported to any planet, in any galaxy.

Are you sure I’m ready for this? Jewels asked.

Darius, recalling his own trepidation when he first met the council, responded, I am positive that this is what’s next for you.

Entering the spacious dome, they encountered a host of illumined beings forming a circle around a whirling vortex. The council of light was a group of ancient beings who had assembled throughout the epochs. Members transitioned in and, when they had offered the sum of their knowledge, out. Their combined intelligence helped younger souls through the evolution process.

Jewels looked at Darius. Are we the only ones? I thought there would be a crowd of us here.

The council prefers solitude for the preliminary introduction.

The council proclaimed in telepathic unison, Welcome, Jewels! We thank you for joining us.

Jewels radiated her gratitude.

Jewels, we have been informed that you are interested in a human embodiment. We need female essences for the posts on Earth. The feminine frequency is instrumental for human transcendence.

Jewels indicated that she was fully prepared to commit to being human and a female for many lifetimes. She would, she agreed, observe the effects of genetic modification on the human race. The council of light would dissect each incarnation after it occurred. Vital information would be retrieved and used to design the larger plan for emancipation from the current planetary rulers.

Be forewarned, the council advised, this matrix will deceive you and make you think it is real. Only when you leave its influence will you remember who you are.

Darius said to his initiate, The bond you create with the one who guides you is unbreakable.

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Each time Jewels returned from a specific assignment on Earth, her soul was wrought with consternation.

Darius, I simply can’t understand the need for such wretched existences. I know that I am to remain neutral—that will support a rise of consciousness in the human field. Yet I yearn for a lifetime in which I can make a lasting difference. I want to see the beginnings of a new paradigm for this race.

We can discuss it with the council. As you are aware, the elders have vast insight.

At the domicile of transition, in a circle attended by many souls and many guides, they gathered to view the hologram of humanity and its condition. It was agreed that the time had arrived. Each soul who was ready would enter this part of the space-time continuum. Jewels volunteered, along with millions of others. This lifetime is going to be my last, Jewels declared.

She and Darius had ventured through eons together. Together they began devising a strategy for her final human incarnation.

Clear about your mission this time, Jewels?

They both knew it would not be easy. But Jewels insisted that she did not need Darius to come into physical form to assist her.

Through healing the wounded feminine within myself, she relayed assuredly, I’ll be able to support other women, to help them heal themselves.

You know the course that is laid out, Darius emphasized. One never knows how the ego of the human will handle the shock of trauma. It’s going to get dark. Suicide will be a constant temptation.

I’ll be fine. I’ve done this hundreds of times. I’ll wake up exactly when necessary. We have many souls in place to assist me. My parents have been chosen. Everything is in order.

Darius conveyed, Per our protocol, I will be supporting you in a variety of ways. Even if you think I am not there, I am.

Thank you, Darius. I know I’ve chosen a challenging path. There’s much for all of us to endure.

He responded, Infinite love, my dear.

Jewels peered into the spiraling vortex of timelines, the gateway used by all souls to enter Earth’s dimension. She spotted her soon-to-be parents. Then the year appeared as if on ticker tape. 1966.

She dove into the portal and was transported into the womb of her mother.

The council pierced Darius’s energetic field. Don’t lose sight of her, they warned. Earth’s liberation is counting on you and many others. We’ve had casualties lately. Do you understand us, Darius?

All he could do in the moment was answer, Yes.

The council spoke in resounding unison, a symphony of a thousand ethereal voices.

May the Benevolent Source of Creation be with you.

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Bridget Julia McNeil’s soul birthed into human form in September 1966. It was in the middle of a great upheaval of young people in American society. According to her astrological chart, Pluto and Uranus were conjunct at the time of her first breath and, simultaneously, opposing Saturn—which represented all societal forms, belief systems, mores, and structures from the past. This alignment of the cosmos birthed a proliferation of free thinkers, hippies, and psychedelics, of communes, of peace, love, civil rights, the burning of draft cards and bras.

If an astrologer had looked at her chart, Bridget might have been warned to stay on the middle road. Straying too far to the left or right would result in a heap of turmoil. But she did not receive such counsel. She did not know that these formidable conjunctions happen only once every 129 years.

CHAPTER ONE

This was not how Andrea had pictured her life turning out. In the mid-sixties, she was in her second year at the University of Arizona when she missed her period.

Tears and rage plagued Andrea as she came to terms with her calamity. Her spirit already felt smothered. She considered getting an abortion, but it was 1966. Abortions were illegal, expensive, and dangerous. She realized that she would be thrust into a marriage of convenience with the child’s father, her boyfriend-of-a-few-months Ryan McNeil. Both families agreed that a wedding needed to be held as soon as possible, before the belly starts to show, as Ryan’s mother put it.

After an impromptu Catholic ceremony at her grandmother’s home in South Carolina—Andrea shocked everyone by wearing a short white cocktail dress and a pixie-cut hairstyle—the young couple headed back to Tucson, where they settled into a small adobe-style rental. Four months later, while Andrea was putting away groceries, the baby decided it was time. Andrea drove herself to the hospital.

Am I going to be left to raise this child by myself? Andrea asked herself aloud as she waited at a stoplight. Ryan had been recruited by the Tucson Police Department and had a strict schedule. He had tried to take the day off, but his request was denied.

The excruciating pain in her body was unexpected.

I guess I never thought about the labor part of having a baby.

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Andrea examined the stark white room. The smell of antiseptics made her nauseated; the contractions intensified. She rang the bell to alert the nursing staff. A nurse appeared and offered her an epidural, which Andrea accepted without a second thought.

As her suffering subsided, Andrea decided that she would reinvent the term mother. By God, if this is how it’s going to be, I’d better redeem it somehow. She determined: I will be a very different kind of mother.

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After the birth of her second child, Conner, three years later, Andrea realized that her salvation would not come from Church doctrine. She could not keep getting pregnant. And she realized, too, that she could not stay married to Ryan. He was too narrow-minded, and he clung to Catholicism as if it were the only truth. She needed to expand her horizons. Date other men. Test out some of the mind-altering substances she had heard about. She had to get out of the relationship as quickly as humanly possible.

God forbid I find myself with another child before I leave! she said to herself one day as she folded laundry. This can’t be all my life is about. Being a wife and changing diapers.

Andrea laid both children down for a nap. In the ensuing moment of silence, she recorded the day of her decision in her journal.

I am too much of a pragmatist to get hung up on conflicting moral or philosophical thinking regarding a woman’s right to choose termination, or to divorce her husband.

My primary considerations are: who I am at my core, timing of a family (that’s secondary), and my own readiness. Remember, Andrea, you are a Sagittarian. Sagittarians are

a. Not particularly good parents

b. Driven by wanderlust; lives are lived on the move, creating adventures. And finally …

c. Fidelity is not a strong suit.

Andrea’s convictions were clear. No matter what society whispered behind her back, she would endure and step into the world of single parenting. She cared little about the opinions of others anyway.

A year after Conner’s birth, she officially informed Ryan that the end had come.

I can no longer be your wife, Andrea pronounced.

Ryan, sitting at the kitchen table, took a sip of his morning coffee. After what seemed like a full minute, he replied, I knew we’d get divorced eventually. He stared ahead, not once looking at his wife as she leaned against the counter.

And so Andrea moved ahead. She called her only sister, Silvia, two years older than she was and an airline hostess for Western Airlines. She was single and had little interest in marriage or starting a family. Silvia listened intently as Andrea described her conversation with Ryan, her need to move away, her dream of starting a new life. When Andrea grew silent, Silvia finally spoke.

Andrea, you are my only sister. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Why don’t you move in with me until you get back on your feet?

Silvia, you’re a life saver. Thank you.

As soon as she got off the phone, Andrea took Conner out of his playpen in the living room. She carried him over to Bridget, who was reading a book nearby, and set him on the floor next to her. Andrea sat down on the carpet in front of them. Conner struggled to wiggle away; five-year-old Bridget distracted him with a stuffed dinosaur toy. Andrea took a deep breath and then spoke.

Your father and I are not compatible. Her voice was formal, straightforward. To be honest, we never were. So we are getting divorced. We will no longer be living together as a family. Your auntie has offered to have us stay in her home in Paradise Hills, Colorado. There will be snow when we arrive. Snow is frozen rain. We will be living in the mountains. There are four distinct seasons—she held up four fingers—and we call those winter, spring, summer, and fall. We will arrive in the month of December, and it will stay cold until March.

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Bridget had tried to keep up with everything her mom had said. It all happened so fast. She understood that Dad was out of the picture, but she was not sure where he was going or why he was not coming with them. And she was intrigued by this mysterious, cold place called Paradise Hills. She could only imagine what snow was like. Maybe it was similar to rainbow-colored snow cones, except all over the ground.

But when they got there, after driving for what seemed like years, she found herself staring at a barren landscape. White in every direction. Her shoulders slumped as her entire body shivered in the frigid air. The other cold, bitter truth was that the security she had once felt in her father’s presence was never coming back.

She considered her options. There were none. For some strange, unknown reason, her mother had thought this would be a good place to live. To Bridget’s child mind, it was utterly ridiculous.

In just the first few days, Bridget determined that she already despised their new home, a rickety old log cabin built in the late 1800s. Towering ponderosa pine trees dotted the land around the house, making her feel teeny, invisible. She’d gaze through the huge front window at the steep, rocky terrain below. She felt like a bird perched on the edge of a cliff, getting ready to fly. She pondered her mother’s explanation and tried to make rhyme or reason of the recent upheaval. Life had shifted dramatically. Her dad was gone. Her mom was alone.

The sense of safety she had once internalized had vanished. The big cul-de-sac home next to her best friend’s was now a distant recollection. Bridget pined for the hot and hotter of her former desert home.

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Time passed, and the sting wore off. After several weeks of adjustments, Bridget’s apprehensions slowly dissipated. Gradually, the Colorado log cabin started to seem a little more inviting. Bridget liked it most when the heat of a crackling fire wrapped its warmth around her and her baby brother, who would sit mesmerized in front of the flickering light. This is something you’d never do in the desert, Bridget thought.

Andrea let out a sigh of relief one evening as she watched her children sit in front of the fire, quietly placated by the dancing hot embers. The momentary hush allowed her to consider the various phases of her life. Andrea was twenty-six. She felt as though she had wasted a lot of time over the past five years. She considered finishing college, but that would have to wait until she could support herself financially. Studying English and geography for two years in college would mean little when it came to the practicality of finding a job that paid well. She knew there would be consequences from her decision to divorce Ryan. What those might be was still unknown. She had been sequestered long enough. No one—not even her daughter or son—was going to keep her from her pursuit of autonomy.

Part of gaining this liberty was changing her name to Andie, a nickname Silvia had given to her in the fifth grade. Andrea loathed her birth name. She thought the masculine name Andie drew more notability. That it did.

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It was late afternoon, and the sun was melting the last of the winter’s snow. Four months had rolled by for the clan. The front door swung open, and Bridget came rolling in, damp and laughing. She had been exploring the boulders and forest around the house, which created an endless landscape of secret forts and hideaways.

Andie was sitting at the dining-room table, speaking into the phone. Her voice sounded frustrated and angry. Bridget wondered, who is my mom talking to? She tiptoed closer and lightly touched Andie’s shoulder.

What do you mean, ten days? Andie shouted. "My sister has a lease, which I’ve been added to… . What? … You sold the house. Damn you, you bastard!