Strands

Contents

The Time Before Time

The Birth

Jess Visits

Angie, Travis, and Habiba

Eric

Childhood Struggles

The Good Ideas Club

El Camino Seco

Travis’s Game

The Shift

The Curandera

Travels

The Joining

Home again

The Haven

Roberto

Apprenticeship

Ralph

Psychic Contact with Friends

Game Show

Juniper Place

The Children

Meldra Fruit

Timothy

The Wedding

Tragedy

Meeting a Master

Deep Meditations and Dreamwork

Eddah in the Hospital

A Walk In

Farewell to the virus

More Healing

Prison work

Migrations

Physical changes

Dimensions

Initiation of the Essenes

Disaster Strikes

The Pod

Transformation

Epilogue

Many Thanks

Previous Book by

Mary Z Szczepanski

The Time Before Time

There is a place where all souls are held before their lives on earth. They are surrounded by the energy of unlimited possibilities and infinite love and peace. They exist in constant contact with the light known by many names: Great Spirit, All That Is, The Source, God, Oneness, Collective Consciousness.

A soul waited there, surrounded by loving beings of that spirit world. She dreaded any possible interruption of the bliss. She had been given a hint of an assignment earlier and awaited the moment of decision with trepidation.

We have chosen you, one of the guides told her. The message was communicated in a spiritual way, as a vibration. We want you to help bring light to humans on earth. We see much evidence that many are ready to move to another level of consciousness.

I’ve heard stories, she replied feeling already that her thoughts were becoming dense and less like music. Earth is a beautiful place being rapidly destroyed by its own people. How is it possible that they are ready?

The guide listened.

People on Earth are insecure competitive, destructive, and hateful, the soul argued, reluctant to mention the most frightening part of incarnating. Finally she asked the question.

Is it true that we all forget about being here and our connection to the Oneness? she asked desperately.

Oh, so that’s what’s bothering you, the guide replied. The answer is both yes and no. You might forget some of this, it’s true, but the wondrous energy that you love so much in this place is everywhere on Earth.

I don’t understand, she answered, feeling confused.

There is beauty in the natural world: forests and rainbows, flowers and sunrises, and in people’s hearts, the guides explained. There is deep love and forgiveness, even amidst conflict and hardships. People all over the world are struggling with a fierce loyalty to do the right thing and to make Earth a better place. Even without fully remembering that they came from this light, each person has a spark inside them. For some the spark has magnified and radiates light even into the far reaches from where they live. For others the spark has faded, but could be re-ignited. Then too, there are some who do remember and choose to stay connected to their spirit selves.

What about pain and suffering? she asked. It sounds terrible.

You know, humans do have the capacity for taking care of each other, the guide shared. You will have family and friends . . . and most of all: companions on this journey. One of them has already incarnated. Three others will follow you. You must make your choice now.

Yes . . . I will do it, but—she committed with little confidence or enthusiasm.

The Birth

She felt herself slipping as if into a dream. There was a movement and the sound of a gentle breeze. It was her first breath. She heard joyful exclamations. A healthy baby girl, the midwife said, wrapping the baby in a warm blanket. The baby looked for the first time into the eyes of her parents, Daniel and Kira, and felt their tenderness. Everything was so new. The physical sensations, the sights and sounds and smells drew her attention away from the angels who had brought her into the world. It was perhaps only the grandmother, Rosalie, who caught a flash of brightness in the room.

All eyes were on the baby. For a few minutes, little was spoken, yet she sensed a litany of rigid expectations for her future: would she be a musician, a scientist, a social activist? There were worries and unspoken frustrations about the world, uncertainty, and fears… Y2K… the end of the world. Overwhelmed with the noisy dissonance of energy she could not understand, she burst into tears. Rosalie and the midwife left the room to give the new parents time to bond with their daughter.

Kira had arrived for a visit with her mother, Rosalie, just hours before. Once at Rosalie’s house, the labor pains came on quickly and too intensely for her to be taken to the birthing center. The midwife arrived. The birth went well. Rosalie’s large house was well-suited for extra people and celebrations of all kinds. The baby was born in the same room where Rosalie had given birth to both Kira and Roberto, and where Rosalie herself had been born.

The house rested at the foot of the Sandia Mountains and held generations of Chicano culture. It was an adobe house. Large wooden beams protruded from the front and back. Dried red chilies hung on the side of the bright blue front door. Inside, colorful ceramic tiles from Mexico accented the fireplace and kitchen counter.

A few hours later, when her grandfather, Jess, held his newborn granddaughter for the first time, the baby sensed his heart brimming over with joy and hope. She felt the comfort of love and his presence in the moment. He held out to her a small plastic ball that contained within it a pattern of iridescent colors. The sun made it sparkle as if it were lit from within. She poked at it with tiny hands and the curiosity that might have been expected from an older infant.

A little gray junco with a white belly perched on the sill outside as if to catch a glimpse of the baby. It spread its wings and lifted off.

Rosalie, Jess’s wife, saw his eyes begin to glaze over. For months, she had watched him become a frail, shrunken version of himself as he battled a brain tumor.

Jess, maybe you would like to rest for a while, she said, and gently took the newborn from Jess’s arms. You did well, Jess. You waited for her.

Kira and Daniel took their new baby home that evening.

As if the baby’s birth completed something in him, Jess died that night.

Two weeks later, on a Saturday, when the cold winds blew down from the mountains into Albuquerque a memorial was held for Jess. To accommodate some of the out of town quests, the baby’s christening was held the next day. Daniel’s parents, Laura and Will, from Prince Rupert, British Columbia, helped organize the small ceremony. Will had spent most of his life working for the Forest Service dedicating his life to the natural world. Laura was a teacher, with Irish roots and deep spiritual leanings.

The baby was christened, Mercedes. After the ceremony, friends and family went to Rosalie’s home.

Rosalie made her special chili and some puffed fry bread, called sopapillas. Jess’s death weighed heavily on her. She was glad to roll up her sleeves, tie her long dark hair back, and hide in the kitchen. Soon Laura came in to help.

What can I do here? Laura asked, slipping on an apron. It smells delicious.

The chili needs to heat more, and then we can serve it, Rosalie replied, forcing a smile.

Joy and grief are difficult emotions to hold at the same time, Laura said, putting a slender arm around Rosalie’s shoulder. You’re in good company for sharing both.

Rosalie nodded and wiped tears from her cheeks.

Kira nestled herself on some pillows on the couch and snuggled the baby. Her short dark hair was neatly in place. Daniel helped the other guests get settled.

How exactly did you know my father? Kira asked Eddah and Salif, the guests from Kenya.

I learned of his worldwide work to end bullying when I had a U.N. assignment related to ending violence in the refugee camps. I contacted him and we became friends, Salif replied.

We wanted to come to his memorial, and it is an honor to celebrate his granddaughter’s birth and naming, Eddah added. She stroked down her embroidered turquoise dress, over her slightly rounded belly.

Eddah, you are pregnant! Kira exclaimed.

Our daughters will be close in age, Eddah laughed.

When dinner was ready, Roberto, Kira’s brother, ushered the guests to the table. Roberto had short black hair, dark brown eyes, and a tendency to be serious, as if continuously pondering solutions to problems of the world.

How does it feel to be an uncle? Will asked Roberto as they all sat down.

I’m not really sure yet, Roberto said shyly. It’s kind of new. I haven’t had much time to think about it, Roberto looked down. The death of his father, Jess, put his emotions close to the surface. Roberto glanced back up at Will.

How does it feel to be a grandfather? Roberto asked Will.

We are both excited about becoming grandparents, Laura interjected, serving a bowl of chili to Roberto. Daniel was their only son.

She’s right. We’re thrilled, Will added, flashing a big smile.

Salif looked to Kira and Daniel: Why don’t you tell us about the baby’s name? he asked. Don’t Catholics have to baptize their children with saints’ names? I haven’t heard of Saint Mercedes. Salif had studied several religions.

We’re not all that Catholic, Rosalie muttered under her breath, not mentioning her failure to give Kira a saint’s name. She laughed, then, and spoke up: "We thought of calling her Millenium, for being born on the first day of 2000."

We named her Mercedes for Our Lady of Guadalupe, The Virgin of Mercy, Kira began. It was also the name of my favorite teacher in high school.

It’s a big name for such a tiny baby," Will commented lightheartedly. Everyone laughed, bringing some much needed levity to family and new friends.

"Her middle name is Maya, Rosalie mentioned. That was my idea."

Whether because it was simpler, or because it suited her, from then on the baby was called Maya.

After dinner the guests were ready to help open piles of baby gifts. Amidst cloth diapers made from pesticide-free cotton, non-PVC toys, and a baby sweater made by a women’s textile co-op in India, there was a beautifully hand crafted native drum made by Will.

The intricate carving and painted skin are beautiful. You must have been working on this for a long time, dad! Daniel could hardly contain himself.

I started it a while back. Then when I heard you were planning to have a baby, the project took on more purpose… and a deadline, Will smiled smugly. He was proud of his work. The drum was a few inches deep and over a foot across. It was the style of drum used by the Will’s First Nations people, the Tlingits.

Daniel lightly tapped out a rhythm to hear the sound.

It’s perfect, he said. Maya will have to grow into this a bit. Daniel and his father smiled warmly at each other.

Daniel continued tapping and began to hum a melody. He was a music teacher in the schools. Kira, a musician and researcher, picked up a harmony. They looked into each other’s eyes with re-assurance, as they started the journey of parenthood.

Hey, someone gave Maya a goat, Roberto commented. Well, the goat was actually given to someone in her name. It’s from an organization that does international work for people in need. You can buy a cow, a pig, or a sheep to give to a family.

There’s something curious about these gifts, Kira said, wrinkling her brow. Has anyone else noticed how many of them are earth-friendly, or from sustainable industries?

It seems that people were just honoring the request on the invitations, Salif commented.

Roberto, you were in charge of mailing the birth announcements. What do you know about this? Rosalie asked.

Guilty as charged, Roberto said, looking up to face the others. I heard you saying there might be gifts involved, so I took the opportunity to add a message, he explained. I only offered a suggestion for those who wished to send gifts." He did not apologize.

It was tastefully done and in no way implied that a gift was necessary, Eddah said, defending Roberto.

The baby whimpered and pushed her little hands out of the red sleep suit.

Sounds like Maya likes the idea, Will joked.

Looks like you are going to be a wonderful uncle. A career in environmental and social justice journalism suits you, Salif laughed. He and Eddah spent hours late into the night talking with Roberto about world issues.

Jess Visits

As Maya grew, unexpected leaps in her development, such as learning sign language to communicate before learning to speak, were often a shock to Maya’s parents. Being more at ease with Maya’s abilities than Daniel and Kira, Rosalie was rewarded one day by an unexpected encounter. She and four-year-old Maya sat together on the big rocking chair in the living room. Maya held a small plastic globe with strands of color inside. It lit up when she held it.

Grandpa gave me this, Maya commented.

Rosalie was surprised that Maya could remember something that occurred only a few hours after she was born. Grandpa loves me, she added.

Yes, he does, Rosalie assured Maya. But something made Rosalie want to probe further.

How do you know he loves you, Maya? she asked.

He tells me all the time, Maya answered un-self-consciously. She put her head on Rosalie’s chest. I see him right now, she said as she nodded off.

Rosalie froze after Maya’s last comment. Then she felt bathed in warmth. Right in front of her she saw an outline of light, then a translucent image. She turned around to see if some light was reflecting oddly in the room.

Jess, is that really you? she asked, squinting and craning her neck forward. His image was fading in and out.

I love you both very much, he said. Rosalie. Listen. Maya is special, he explained. She needs someone to be there for her.

Kira and Daniel— Rosalie started.

They are good parents, Jess interrupted. They will want to protect her. This is different. Maya needs more. She is bringing a new energy to the world. She has the new DNA. There are others like her. You can help her, my dear Rosalie. Remind her to connect with the earth, so she can stay grounded when so much is changing around her. With that he was gone.

Angie, Travis, and Habiba

During childhood Maya had intervals of talking to herself and then describing the conversations to her mom. Kira assumed these interactions were with imaginary friends, though she never asked.

Maya, we’re having your birthday party tomorrow, Kira told Maya on the last day of the year. Grandma Rosalie is coming and we’ll have some fruit and frozen yogurt."

I know, Mom, Maya replied with uncanny self-assuredness. I’m going to be five. Angie and Travis want to come.

Kira was very still, as if being so would somehow make reality stick together better. She had convinced herself that Travis and Angie were imaginary friends whom Maya described in great detail and with whom Maya carried on extensive conversations. Kira had one of those sudden ideas that occasionally made her feel like she was ahead of her daughter’s thinking.

Maya, I need to talk to their mommies to tell them what time to come to the party, Kira said almost smugly.

Okay, mommy, Maya said, jumping up. She bounced around the room in her bright orange smock.

Just then the phone rang.

Hi, are you Kira? This is Elly. I’m Angie’s mom, the caller said. Kira felt uncomfortable tingles all over her body, as her physiology reacted to something totally unexpected. The caller went on, It took a while to find your number. Five-year-olds don’t always know each other’s last names or phone numbers. I got your number from a babysitting co-op member who knows you. Well, anyway, Angie told me that she is invited to a birthday party. Is that true? I don’t have any particulars.

Well… yes, of course Angie is invited, Kira said, while struggling to muster some social grace.

You sound as if I caught you off guard. Is it one of those Indigo things? Elly inquired without apology. Don’t worry. It happens to me all the time.

Indigo? Kira questioned. I don’t know what that means.

Oh, yeah. That’s what some people call children with special abilities, Angie answered. Listen, you and I can talk more when we see each other.

Kira gave the time and place for the party. She looked forward to the company of another parent who had the challenges of a sensitive child, but wasn’t sure how much information she really wanted.

Oh, by the way, Travis is real, too. Should I tell his mom, Sheila, that he is invited? She and I are friends from the peace group, Elly added. Kira finalized plans with the additional real guests.

Maya’s fifth birthday party was a pleasant afternoon. Angie and Travis played together easily with Maya and several of her new toys. Travis was nearly two years older but not much larger than the girls. He had a habit of brushing his hair off his forehead, though it never seemed to tame the cowlicks that stood up.

Maya was curious about the brace on Angie’s left leg, which gave her a slight limp.

What’s on your leg? she asked Angie.

I have muscular dystrophy, Angie answered with a smile, pronouncing the words slowly and correctly, as if she had recited them many times before. It makes my leg weak. That’s why I need the brace. Her light brown curls dashed out in all directions.

There just isn’t that much information out, although the chat rooms on the internet are helpful. It is really learn-as-you-go, Elly said when the children were playing together in Maya’s room and the adults were conversing in the living room.

Learning to understand all of Travis’s sensitivities has been tough. Sometimes even the seams in his socks are an irritation for him, Sheila, complained.

Kira and Daniel rolled their eyes at each other, acknowledging that they were not alone in similar pursuits to discover why their child was at times distressed.