In The Between: Bardo Trilogy, #3

By May Sinclair PhD

What if it is true?  What if you don't go to Heaven…or Hell when you die?  What if karma does exist?  What if you do reincarnate into another life to try to learn about your past mistakes and get to balance out any of your or others' misdeeds? 

In the Between is the story of a woman who dies and travels through the Bardo.  Meaning she is going from one life to the next.  The term Bardo comes from the Tibetan Book of the Dead.  Its meaning is loosely translated as: The In Between.  Souls travel through it for 49 days, during which time they are encouraged to accept any one of numerous heavens.

But our soul, in the story, is not Buddhist, she is from the West.  Right from the start, as soon as she arrives at the Bardo, she is surprised to discover something startling about her soul. And being the kind of woman she's become through the countless lives—she believes she has lived—she developed her own belief system.  Based on her ideas about the Bardo she agrees to re-live her past lives that took place in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, Jerusalem, Istanbul, Spain, Brussels, France, England, the U.S., and India.  During those lives she discovers why she made choices causing karma that must be balanced in her future for further evolution of her soul.   

She learns about the complexity of the soul and how thinking people develop their ideas about God, the universe, energy, but most importantly why souls on planet earth, at all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: May Sinclair PhD
• Release date: Jan 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215113325

May Sinclair PhD

May Sinclair's doctorate is in the philosophy of Metaphysics. An award-winning and internationally acclaimed author of numerous non-fiction and fiction books, based on symbolism and ancient history, she is currently writing the third book in the metaphysical fantasy trilogy about reincration: Another turn of the Wheel.

Book preview

THIS MUCH IS FACT:

In the Tibetan Book of the Dead there is an explanation of what happens to a soul traversing from one incarnation to the next.  The soul goes into what is called the Bardo, loosely translated as The In Between where the soul travels for seven weeks—forty-nine days—while Buddhist monks chant in an effort to guide the soul on its journey.  The chants attempt to encourage the soul to accept one of the several Heavens offered to it at various stages along the way.  But if that does not happen, or cannot happen due to the need to balance out the positive and negative forces of karma left over from the actions and consequences in prior lives, the soul at the end of the Bardo is given the choice to accept any one of several couples for parents in its next lifetime.  The soul sees all of those potential parents making love and the sexual magnetic energy is overwhelmingly strong.  Still, the soul is encouraged, per the book and chanting monks, to be cautious not to go into what is called a bad womb.

CHAPTER ONE

My eyes opened wide.  "Adam, it is all true."

He looked up into my greatly aged face to ask, What’s true?

With more enthusiasm than I’d expressed in a very long time I grasped at his arm and told him I could see a long winding path in front of me with a brilliant light far, far away at its end.  Then I remembered, saying brightly, "I am going to a better place, so when you think of me be sure to say what day it is: one through forty-nine. Now don’t forget to tell me.  That way I’ll know how much longer my journey is."

The look in his eyes gave away his feelings of fear and dread as he took my thin skinned and wrinkled hand in his, brought it to his lips, and kissed it with a profound gentleness.  I promise.  Can’t you stay a little longer here with me?

Only when he spoke did I notice his sadness and my own selfishness. Trying to make my voice sound kinder, I uttered, No.  No, I can’t.  But know I love you and we’ll be together again.  That much I know for sure.

As he moved his lips from my hand to kiss my brow there was a thin swirl of something, not exactly smoke but not a silvery thread either, trailing out from the crown of my head that moved directly towards the path.

I didn’t look back.  I’d been taught—or truthfully, had only read—that this was the most important part:  to let go of my passionate attachments.

It was easy.  At first.   

Feeling excited as I floated around where the path began, I started to calculate when I’d be born again.  I figured today’s date as May 30th.  By adding the forty-nine days of travel through the Bardo and the additional two hundred and sixty-six days I’d be growing inside my new mother, well let me see . . . thirty days hath September, April, June, and November . . . right, my next birth will take place on January 22, 2035.

I thought, too bad I hadn’t checked my Ephemeris book before I passed on to check the planets, when a Kindle reader immediately appeared and danced before my vision.

Wow, now I can read the book and look up all the planets that will affect my next life.  At least I won’t be fooled like I was last time.  I believed I was going to be a princess. But all I was feeling was the energy from my royal sun sign Leo.

A tiny feminine voice chuckled.

Startled, I looked around.  Who is that?

Does it matter? the voice breathed out softly.

Yes, you bet it does!

I’m your soul.

Okay, then who or what am I, I gasped out, adding quickly, I am dead, right?

Okay, calm down, we are both you, said my self-avowed soul in a patient tone ever so slightly tinged with exasperation.  "Yes, you are physically dead, but since all of your passions are not gone, you and I are not completely together as one merged soul . . . yet.  Then as though it were an afterthought, she added, You are our animal soul and I’m our spiritual soul."

Clearly showing my passions were hardly extinguished, and feeling insulted at her remark, I declared, "I am not an animal.  I am human." 

"Look, just get over yourself for a moment.  Think about it, what part of humanity doesn’t respond to the herding instinct?  Why else would people around the world believe they can be sexy by using a shampoo they see a beauty using on TV, or if they drink the beer they see everyone drinking at a made-up party?  Yes, and why haven’t humans got beyond that old fight or flight business of excess energy in their bodies when they aren’t punching their way out of or running away from a situation; when all they are dealing with is a modern security threat like losing their job . . . or health insurance?"

I understood the points she made . . . thinking, I’ve made those same observations myself.

"You have not left all of your passions behind, but you have evolved.  That’s why you felt so much pain in being consciously disconnected from that old herding instinct."

Is that supposed to make me feel better about all the crap I went through in my last life?

I could hear that my words sounded much more bitter than I intended, or I wanted them to be, and wasn’t sure what to do as I thought, oh no, I sounded really passionate just then.

No.  It’s just that I have your full attention now and it’s important that you learn from me and your memories before we get to the end of this journey.

Oh.

"If you weren’t part animal, seeking safety, you wouldn’t have wanted to get that Ephemeris book to use its information to determine which of the planetary energies will affect you in your—no, our—next lifetime.  Well, would you?"

Those words were cold no matter how patient the tone. I wanted to think about them before I committed to anything.  So, I deflected her question by asking one of my own.

Are you the voice in my head?  The one I talk to all the time?

"Certainly not. I’m the quiet voice you converse with in meditation, some times in your dreams, and on the rare occasion when your brain waves are in beta, fully awake and conscious.  Those loud clamoring voices in your head are the bits of us that you pulled off during various stages of life to create egos . . . "

Just stop right there, what was I supposed to do?  I had to cope with so much craziness in my life.

I know.  But here you are calculating your birth date and Zodiac signs.  It seems you want to control everything and end up being completely controlled yourself.  What part of being free are you truly willing to accept?

Still feeling defensive I answered, I had plenty of experiences that supplied more than enough reasons for me to not be keen on change and surprise!

"Yes, sure, everyone does.  Yet there is something in you that is still fearful after all the efforts you made to stop being afraid.  And here you are dragging it all into the Bardo."

When she shut up I started thinking about what we’d both said.  Before I could grasp their true impact, I heard her mumble to herself, "Well, after that old body is cremated she at least will get rid of the fear held within her DNA and cellular memory.  It’s been well over a century since I’ve been able to form a completely new body for us to use."

Sighing deeply she continued, And that time it wasn’t a choice, really.  Being burned as a witch was never a choice.  But even then I wasn’t able to do much with all that fear embedded in the DNA and cells that affected the etheric bodies since she kept choosing people from her past-lives to be her parents.

What . . . what? What are you talking about? I was a witch?  I was burned alive?  I’ve stayed in a witch family?

Oh, sorry, how embarrassing, I forgot I have your full attention. I’ll be more careful about my thoughts wandering around.

That is not an answer, I began, but then I heard a sound behind me. "Shush, that’s Adam, he said, ‘day one’, bless his heart.  I knew I could depend on him." 

I felt a swell of love flood through me and knew it would choke up my voice with emotion.  I did so much want to look back towards his voice, but didn’t want my so-called spiritual soul to take note of my weakened resolve. I didn’t want to admit to myself that my passionate emotions were as strong as I was feeling them either, so looked down quickly instead.  To my surprise I saw feet covered in sneakers.  And blue jeans and a white tee shirt. I was just noticing that none of them was brand new, when I got distracted at the condition of my hands: fresh skin without a single age spot or raised blood vessel. My fingers were long, slender, and the gnarled knuckles were gone, too.

I guess my spiritual soul noticed how my mind and emotions were spiking all over the place. She told me, Don’t worry.  There is a great deal for you to remember and there are lots of choices for you to make, but I’m here to help you. I am your guide.

Still confused with all the feelings, information, and revelations I snapped back, "Don’t be so smug. You are the cause of much of the pain experienced. Everything that’s happened was the result of our thoughts.

Take a deep breath and try to remember what you said over and over during your last life, that you will give . . .

What?  I can still breathe?

No, of course not.  I only meant figuratively.  Now let me think, where was I?  Oh, it doesn’t matter.  You are too upset.  Why don’t you look back and tell your husband you are okay and that you love him?

Adam can hear me?

Yes. Yes, he can. He’s rather upset because your old body will be cremated tomorrow morning.

Oh . . . right.  He’ll be thinking about taking the ashes up onto a mountaintop to toss them in the wind. I told him that’s probably not legal, but he didn’t care. Anyway, you say I can tell him things?

If you tell him when he’s asleep—dreaming—it will give him some comfort. You know that from your own past experiences.

Yes . . . yes, I do. But how will I know when he’s asleep and dreaming?

Just listen from the place where your physical heart used to be.  You still have your auras.  It’s only your physical parts that are gone.

Okay.  I need you to be quiet for a while.  I want to think about what I’m going to tell him.

"I will, but listen to this first.  It won’t be in words.  It will come from your astral body—you know where your emotional thoughts occurred spontaneously and then were felt in your physical body. That’s what he’ll sense. He’ll understand what you tell him, but through symbols. You do know that. You know that’s why so many of the dreams of a dead loved one involve large bodies of water. Water, you know, the symbol for emotions."

Questioning what she’d said I thought, astral body . . . emotional thoughts . . . coming from . . . where?  She’s wrong, or maybe . . . crazy. Still . . . she did get that symbol for water right . . . maybe . . .

––––––––

The house was cold. No surprise there. He’d always liked it to be much colder than I did. I was, however, pleasantly surprised there were no aches or pains in my legs or hip joints as I walked up the stairs and down the long hallway into our bedroom. Adam was asleep. His eyes were red-rimmed. I thought, gosh, his body looks as though it’s shrunk even more than it was the last time I saw him—when I was still alive.

A strong emotion came from where my heart used to pump blood.  It took form and traveled from my being right to his. A look of comfort stretched across his face. Then my feelings spread around him, enveloping him, but not tight enough to smother him.  Who knew what it was conveying.  It would be based on what he needed and believed anyway.  That much was true, dream symbols are personal. He was feeling me in the most intimate way now possible, bringing comfort to both of us.

I was glad I’d turned back to look at our life together, but knew I needed to look forward and must return to the Bardo.  I thought, yes, feeling calmer I’ll be able to listen to what she has to tell me.  I really do want to listen.  What I’ve heard so far is pretty weird.

I turned my vision back towards the path.

CHAPTER TWO

All I saw was a shimmering haze like the air gets when it’s incredibly hot. 

I called out, Are you there?

Yes. Your attention wasn’t away more than a few moments. Is everything . . . well, I mean, was your last husband Adam, okay?

My voice was still filled with the huskiness from my tears when I answered, He’s as good as it gets when a person is in the middle of grief. 

I paused and then said, Thank you for guiding me.  I didn’t think I could look back at all.  I thought I had to leave my passions behind me, and everything happened so quickly, I felt horrid.  I’m sorry about snapping at you.

There was absolute silence. 

Hey, can we begin at the beginning?  I promise to listen.  I’ll not overreact from now on, okay?

I was astounded by what happened next.  Standing in front of me was a person who looked just like me, at least the way I looked sixty or seventy years ago, only she was different because she was radiant; there was an iridescent light surrounding her.  The light was like a star twinkling around the edges.  Are . . . are . . . you an angel?

No, I’m your soul, just as I told you before. 

Gone was her tiny tinkling voice, and she sounded more like a school teacher than an angel when she said, "What you think you see is a mirage.  When you are ready to go through the Bardo—be in between your last life and the next one—the vision will change.  None of this is real, or physical, as it seems in an earthly life.  It’s all a reflection of your beliefs."

I’d been overreacting to everything, but I couldn’t hold back, there was too much I wanted to know. Would it be okay for me to ask questions?

Cocking her head to one side, appearing surprised, she told me, Of course, I want you to ask them. This is the last point where you can learn before you go into another physical body. When that happens, you’ll forget your other past-lives and only remember whatever is imprinted onto your soul.

Feeling more at ease, I asked, How is it that we exist together?  I mean, when and where did we, both our animal and spiritual souls, come together.  What’s it all about?

That’s a great question, or questions, and I’ll tell you what I know.  None of us souls know God’s plan, not really.  It’s more of a hunch or feeling that there is one at all.  There are experiments going on in many of the universes.  The universe, where earth is located, is only one of them. 

She looked closely at my face to see if I was able to follow before continuing.  All I know is a bunch of souls were created on the edge of the unformed energy. Suddenly we could think on our own. It was exciting, but it made us feel lonely in a strange way, too.

There was a softened nostalgic quality in her eyes when she said, There were these humans on the planet earth who were very lovely to look at. Each of us souls selected one, surrounded her or his body, making an envelope of energy around it.  As soon as I wrapped myself around you I was shocked and thrilled all at the same time. Physical sensations and emotions crashed right into my mind.  That’s what I am, you see, a mind—part of God’s mind.  I’m just no longer absorbed into it completely.

What she said triggered a question that I, and hundreds of scholars, had pondered for centuries, so I asked, "Is that what the biblical story about the Nephilim, the sons of gods taking humans for wives, was really about?"

She shrugged her shoulders.  Possibly.  Probably.  It was a time of great stress and lots of women and men did their best to make sense of the change in reality. Various forms of Shamanism began and all sorts of myths were made up because of the new mental tension and individual independence. 

Her twinkling body was even brighter when she added, Those beliefs helped release the pressure that had always held everyone together—the herding instinct.  People were able to get away from the group mentality when they got answers to questions that offered relief—any relief—about their new individual freedom.

She was quiet for a moment. I could see she was looking less at me, so she could examine her inner thoughts, before speaking again. "But it wasn’t just the mental aspect of humans that were confused. The spiritual souls had the physical and emotional ones to deal with.  None of us had experienced that kind of freedom in the past. And even though each of us was still connected to the God-spirit, we were now wedged between what we had been and a whole new element—humans.  We somehow simply knew our function was to raise the individual human consciousness, but the heady sense of no longer being completely attached to God along with the new sensations was . . . well, I really can’t explain how exhilarating it all was, not in words."

She paused again while a heavy sense of sadness began to fill the air around us. Let me just say that it took a long time for most of us newly formed spiritual souls to settle down and detach from the free flowing emotions and physical sensations that were like an overpowering drug. I’ll never forget the first time I tasted honey. And sex . . . well, as I said, there’s no way I can explain it.

Her aura had a waviness to it as she murmured, I’m ashamed to admit that most of us souls acted like fools.  The freedom was way too much for us to handle without going through every pleasure and each of the vices of experience from which we could extract wisdom.

I watched her get a bit blurry around the edges.  It was disturbing, so I said, "Okay, that’s really interesting, but I still don’t get it.  If my body is gone, well, what is left?"

She looked at me with a strange expression.  "Yes, of course, you need to know what you really are.  So, do you remember about Kirlian photography?

Oh, yeah, sure.  That’s where a part of a leaf is cut away but the photograph shows the outline of the whole thing.

Correct. And when a person has their arm or leg amputated they often feel it’s still there, a phantom limb.  That’s what’s left—what you are—the etheric body.

My eyebrows shot up.  Yeah, okay, I think I understand that part, but what does it have to do with you saying I’m the animal soul? I always heard souls came into humans to learn from sensations and feelings.  Sounds to me that you’re leaving out some important things. Like you’re trying to make your part, well . . . superior . . . just because it’s closer to the unformed energy . . . whatever that is.  But, that can’t be true.  Not if I’m a soul too.

She didn’t say anything, so I thought, I’ll think this through later.

But I didn’t stop thinking about it.  Did she mean that humans aren’t part of the spiritual?  No, she meant we were given something more.  What she said was about getting our free-will.

My mind jumped from that overwhelming idea to a sore spot I massaged often: My spiritual soul’s not as all knowing as she acts.  Some of the nasty remarks I’d directed towards her, over the past years, were deserved after all.  When I accused her of abusing me, my body, because she was supposed to learn things, well . . . now I felt exonerated.  She had just admitted to what I’d suspected.

You do know that I can hear your thoughts, don’t you?

Yes, I have noticed that.

Her outline turned from a twinkle into a fierce looking sparkle when she said, "Okay, you’ve told me often enough how cruel I treated you—or I should say, our body, but think about this: every time you affirmed your life was in balance all the energy shifted into place, causing a big mess.  Your life wasn’t in balance at all. You wouldn’t let go of anything. You continued teaching too many classes, insisted your house be immaculate . . . at all times, and catered to everyone’s whims. You made choices that let other people’s desires take precedence over yours.  All that kept your life in chaos.  I had to deal with that.  You let your astral body produce one emotion on top of another in a whirlwind of excessive feeling that you blamed on me when it was you who didn’t make the changes or confront the problems that kept your life out of balance.  You call me stupid, but let me tell you, you can be as self-righteous as they come."

Our harsh exchange of words caused a thickness in the atmosphere. It took several moments for her starry outline to glitter less harshly. 

Then after releasing a sigh of long suffering, she said, "If it weren’t for God sending me those letters telling me not to be so rough on you . . . this time, so you’d stop killing yourself, well . . . you’re right, I am learning too, just like you.  But, I do have some advantages."

God, I gasped, writes letters?

You’re doing it again. If you continue to ask unrelated questions that take us away from what we are supposed to accomplish we’ll never . . .

Listen, I am sorry, but hear me out please.  What you think of as an irrelevant question doesn’t seem that way to me.  I’ll try to stay focused.  You can tell me what we need to accomplish, but I really do want to know if God writes letters to, well . . . to anyone.

She sighed again.  No, not letters like you think of them.  They are more like big notice boards with lightening letters cutting across my vision.

My head bobbled up and down. Okay, go on.  What does that mean?

"Try to remember what it was like when you would get flashes of insight that expanded your understanding.  Only, it my case it meant I wasn’t paying attention to the softer message that comes from being directly connected to the unformed energy.  I mean the energy filled with every potential and possibility, because it is not yet set into some type of structure or form.  It’s not good when it appears.  God doesn’t like it when humans cry out in pain for help.  The letters I mentioned are a zap into the energy . . . my spiritual existence"

"Oooh, sorry, but that does sound pretty cool from my perspective.  Anyway, I have another question."

She gave a little moan before she said, Go ahead.  Ask away.

Do you have a name?

No.

May I give you one?  You look like a star, so can I call you that . . . no, wait, that’s not it.  How about Starry?  Yes, that’s better, because you’re more like lots of stars in a starry sky.  So, is that okay with you?

She didn’t say anything. Her forehead was wrinkled up into a frown, but I didn’t think she was angry, only thinking.

"I suppose so, why not?  If it will help you in some way, yes, you can call me that.  Now, are you ready to go on into the Bardo?" 

Yes, I guess I am.

"Okay, I must explain that you are not going directly towards a new incarnation.  What happens is we are taking a trip through the succession of your past-lives.  You will be presented with opportunities to re-live many of your lives.  To live them differently . . . I hope.  You will be given one choice right after the other.  I am here to help and guide you.  Now, are you sure you’re ready to begin?"

Not knowing if I was, or not, I shrugged.

CHAPTER THREE

My shrug must have meant I agreed.

I couldn’t see her, but heard Starry’s voice; she was back inside my head—or somewhere.  Wherever she was, she told me I’d now be shown past-life after past-life in speedy succession.  These, she went on, were lives I’d already rejected to re-live again when making countless journeys in the Bardo.  But, she explained, since free-will is so important I’d be given the choice again.

I didn’t, or actually couldn’t, respond.  I was listening to Adam.  I could tell he was weeping as he said: Day three.  With so much happening I guess I missed hearing him when it was the second day.  Or maybe he forgot when he was tossing my ashes into the wind. I wanted to turn around to go to him.  As interesting as all of this has been, I missed him.

She must have been preoccupied and I suppose she took my silence to be understanding.  Anyway, she continued to tell me that if I choose any life experience, I’d be immediately brought into it.

I wondered, does that mean I leave the Bardo and don’t get new parents?

Without pause she responded to my question, saying that I wouldn’t leave where I am in my in-between stage.  It would only be me selecting a life that I could re-live based on my ideas of a Heaven.  I’d get to re-live that life without the strife and trouble I experienced when I lived it the first time.  She also told me it would be a different situation if I choose to live a lifetime not rejected . . . yet.

"Okay, I think I understand the difference." 

There was an immediate roar in my ears and a flash of bright green.  As I blinked the flashing light settled into sea green colored air.  My hearing was much more pronounced.  I could hear like those people are supposed to do in the TV commercials when they buy sonic ears.

My vision opened onto a grassy plain.  I saw my self. She didn’t look anything like me.  It was like when I had a dream and saw a person I simply knew was me.  The girl was short, gaunt rather than thin, with shiny black skin, and hair cropped close to her skull.  Her breasts were elongated and drooping, belying that she was a young girl; she’d obviously had babies suckling at them. 

I didn’t have to give it any more time to decide it was not a life I wanted to try out again.  As soon as I told Starry I didn’t want to re-live that life, the vision before me changed with dizzying speed.  I saw the same girl-woman, but she had clothes on. Well, they were sort of clothes if you consider a strip of fur and a few animal teeth hanging off a leather thong as clothes. Her breasts were full and her belly protruded—obviously pregnant.  There were two small children near her and a man holding some object I couldn’t quite make out behind her.  I could sense he was her—my—mate. 

No thanks.

The next vision of me wasn’t much different.  Another bunch of kids, another swelling belly, and maybe the same man, or his look-alike. We were all slightly taller and had some type of animal skins covering a bit more of our bodies.  I, along with those children, was still squatting in dirt, just like the other visions, but this time there was the opening of a cave in the background.

No.

Disturbed during one vision where twin baby girls were left exposed to the elements to die, I nearly shouted when I said, No way. Who would ever want to re-live a life like that?

Starry’s voice sounded like she wanted to soothe me. Its okay, usually only people interested in geology, archeology, or anthropology select those ancient, pre-history types of lives to re-live again.

The running chain of visions continued at a rapid pace.  None of them were too different until stone buildings rather than huts or caves began to be included.  I must have rejected hundreds of lifetimes by then.  The only point of interest I noted was that I never seemed to be old, only weathered, in any of those lives. I thought, why would that surprise me?  Life was harsh and literally based on a hand-to-mouth existence. Who would or could live long under those conditions?

I heard a little whisper. Many people did. Especially those who paid attention to their spiritual souls.

Great. But still, no thank you. I don’t like dirt. I have allergies to prove it.

The visions kept coming. They were becoming tedious, and I may have yawned, or at least felt like I did.

Starry’s voice joggled me back to attention when she said, "The next group of life visions contains some that you decided to re-live in the past.  I need to caution you.  When you re-live a lifetime under the rules of the Bardo you choose how the life is played-out.  In the past you never allowed anything to happen that wasn’t all sweetness and happiness.  There was never any reality. You never once changed your actions, only the actions of others that created sappy experiences.  Most of the time you came out, after re-living those lives, even more naïve than you were before you got to re-live them the way you thought would be heavenly." 

Her words sounded critical even if they were spoken softly.

Reading my thoughts, she said, I don’t mean to be judgmental. But please, listen carefully to my guidance before accepting any of the lifetimes that you see from now on.  You promised me you would. Remember, when you were living your last life?

You know Starry, I will, but I can’t help notice you have a personality that is not very well balanced.  No more than mine really. You whine, and you’re moody.  Besides, if these are my lives that I get to re-live like some kind of heavenly reward, why would I change me and not the other people or circumstances?

I couldn’t see her, but I could sense her annoyance.

You aren’t getting this, are you?  Karma is cause and effect, not reward and punishment. These are opportunities for you to enhance your human soul.

She sighed. "Okay, it’s just like when you dream your house is being robbed and you change the dream so you confront the thief.  That means you are able to face up to people, places, things, and ideas that have been taking something away from you physically, mentally, or emotionally. In the Bardo, you can change how you react, or better yet act, to an event so you grow and evolve to become more conscious and less fearful."

Once again, all I could think to say was, Oh.

Nothing happened for a while. I waited and I thought, she must be under some type of pressure. Why else would she be different from what everyone thinks a soul is like?

I can still hear you and your thoughts you know. And you are right. I am under pressure. My job is to help you raise your individual awareness as well as the general human consciousness.  Believe me, that is not easy. When you start acting naïve my job becomes rather trying, to say the least.

All right, all right, I get it.

"Fine. What you have experienced so far was like looking at a movie. The next part will be more like what you read about in the book by Aldous Huxley, Brave New World: the feelies. It won’t just be 3-D, you will feel things, too. No offense, but I have traveled with you through the Bardo more times than either of us would want to count, and you have often selected lives to re-live that just added trouble in your next real life."

It sounded like she was blaming me . . . for something.  But I wasn’t about to do anything to lessen the tension between us either. 

Okay, okay, you’ve made your point and it’s been taken. I’ll listen for your guiding voice before I make any choices.  But let me ask you another question.  Why are you different from what I always heard a soul is like?  I mean, I’ve never heard that a soul is tense. And, by the way, you don’t seem like that when I’m in meditation. As a matter of fact, I never want to leave meditation when I get deep into it, mainly because life doesn’t ever give me that sense of comfort and freedom.

She didn’t answer at first, but I could feel the atmosphere lighten to become calmer and more serene.

You are right . . . again.  I’m much happier in the meditative state and filled with delight when you meet me there.  But that is the complete point. It is possible to be at peace even when you are back into the reality of the world. Every time you increase your awareness you get closer.

She was trying to placate me, but I wouldn’t leave it at that. I felt like crap and had no intention of feeling that way alone. I’d had to stop being emotionally lazy and wanted to make sure she knew it.

So basically, we are intertwined. Neither one of us is all that smart. I know I started out emotionally stupid, but I also know I’ve learned a lot.  In the past I did think I was an innocent person. It took a long time to figure out that my beliefs were letting me hide behind my naiveté.

My words ended the feeling of serenity. 

No matter what you think or say, I’m not that dumb . . . not anymore. I do get lots of this.  I may not be quick or witty, but I am willing and able to focus on what ever I need to concentrate on until I understand it.

The atmosphere continued to thicken from the friction between us. Even so,