Geese flying south, so high in the sky they appear as geometric figures.
North American Indian tribe, Algonquin, 1700’s I hear drumming, calling. Many voices, together they hastily construct huts. Women, children, each occupied at this site. Storing grain. A thumb moves dark kernels of corn in her palm as she contemplates the horizon beyond her.
Sitting close before a fire, golden light reflects on cheerful faces. Harvest finished. Your group will move on to a winter camp with plentiful game to hunt. Two young children cling to you, through you they learn the ways of their ancestors, how to grow food and find wild edibles in order to survive. You weave beads, handiwork greatly prized.
Raids, movement, justice, revenge, all these things encircle your group as a fence forms a barrier. The fence of your adversaries, crowding you, pushing you ever further toward the frontier. You feel threatened and barred. A mix of revulsion and loathing for this imaginary fence. The corn, the path, the geese. Your journey is long before you. Traversing rivers, movement, fires. A cyclical movement. Aware and ever present. Division, warface, truce and peace. At the end is Peace.
A beautiful cloudy sky above you, delicate pinks hang among the clouds as the sun moves ever westward. “You are part of the Peace. We walk with you now, we hear you, we know you. For all is as it should be.” Your heart closes tightly, as purse strings draw closed. Holding everything in, carefully arranged lest it fall out. “You may open the purse now. We are with you. Our love, our presence is always beside you.”
I see a red sun glowing in the sky. It’s rays gleam and shimmer down upon you. I view your chakras. There is the feeling of a shift, an agitation, being bounced from one reality to another. A wavering reflection that suddenly crystalises. Your crown chakra is open, a shaft of light descends into this quiet, vast expanse. At your brow chakra or third eye, I feel fluttering, becoming accustomed to new images, new insights. At your throat chakra, an expelling of something. Words, perhaps symbolically pushing aside a blockage, a conscious decision to come into your true sense of self. At your heart chakra, a small opening, afraid to widen for fear a gushing will ensue, taking you along in the flood. There is a lot of stored love here. At your solar plexus, a light that shines and becomes stronger, brighter with each day. A willingness to extend yourself to your full potential. At your sacral chakra, I hear a pinging sound as if I’ve dropped something into a deep well. Isolation. A deep isolation within yourself. At your base chakra, I see you aligned with the Earth.
I ask for your guides to please assemble themselves for me. You appear as the North American Indian, baskets before you. The Ascended Master Jesus Sananda is with you, helping to express your inner love so that it may be shared with all. Archangel Jophiel’s light radiates around you, helping you clear your mental perceptions so you may absorb new information. He will help you creatively, in order to uplift your self-esteem, feelings of self worth.
I ask to see a timeline. Weaving beads. Your hair falls down your back in braids. You are part of the culture, the movement of tribes, sourcing food, creating shelter. Your life has been a ceaseless flow, enduring hardship, difficulties, not only with European settlers but also other North American Indian tribes. With each passing season you move as the geese, seeking food and peaceful shelter. At the present time, I see you in deep thought. Your present concepts having shifted and changed. As you moved in your past life, so you are moving now. Adapting, changing in order to deal with that which is before you. In the future, I see a serene face. All is quiet. A deep sense of satisfaction that you are where you need to be.
End of Reading