Writer
WRITER:
I close my eyes and I can see myself sitting next to an Ascended Master in an empty building. The place looks abandoned in ruins. His face becomes clearer as I breathe deeper and deeper. He brings with him clothes and shows me that this was how he looked in one of his incarnations. When he was one of the Three Wise Men.
He explains that he is part of a planetary higher conscious hierarchy and that they work in the process of integration that our planet needs for evolution. And while there are many others like him working behind the scenes, his role is to become visible and connect with humans in the physical plane in order to guide us in the path of global transcendence.
While he shows me images from the past and the future of the world, he asks me to write a book under his guidance disregarding what other people might think. Whatever they say about you will be part of their process, he adds. And I smile, because I know what my process is about. Writing this book is my own process of conscious evolution. And my purpose is to share with you all the experiences that I go through as I write it.
WRITER II
I sit on a chair. The page is blank. I take seven deep breaths. And I wait for it to happen.
The journey starts on a white page. The white page is like the Source. A canvas that needs an “other” to become something. To recognize itself as a white canvas. So, the Source divides itself and becomes that other that recognizes the white page. The Source becomes two entities: the page itself and the writer who observes the page. Now the Source, through two different experiences – as a canvas and as a writer- needs to keep exploring itself. New forms. New ways of being. New ways of experiencing. New points of view. And these possibilities of being are born through the words that the Source -disguised as a writer- writes. All the possible stories. All the imaginable characters. The most unthinkable plots multiply as a spontaneous effect of the first division. Every turn, even the most unexpected ones, are One in essence.
WRITER III
Those of us who can perceive visions are usually considered fanciful or imaginative. And though I stopped caring about what other people think or say about me a long time ago, I have to admit that when I saw your video, I tried to keep the visions to myself as much as possible.
I’m going to start with that afternoon in July because although this is a story that crosses dimensions and time frames, the truth is that today we are living in a life where time is linear. That July afternoon, I was out of my house, spending a few days at my parents’ because I had decided to change the floors and paint the walls of my house.
I was enjoying a gray winter day reading in bed when I decided to take a break and play around with my phone. I checked what the people who appeared on social media were doing. Everything seemed monotonous to me. My screen paraded photos, videos, identical content multiplied in series. From the sequence of videos that I saw before coming to yours, what caught my attention was that they happened within an event. And given the context of a global pandemic, a massive event seemed to me, at least, something different. Then your video came.
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BRIEF CONVERSATION ON SOCIAL MEDIA:
WRITER IV
After that brief conversation, more information came to me telepathically.
A few weeks later I felt that your birthday was coming. I was convinced that you had told me about it telepathically, but I couldn’t be sure because that’s how intuition works: a mix of full confidence and doubts.
When I wanted to check if it was actually your birthday, this time, social media did not help me; instead, it made me feel a little crazy and obsessed. But I silenced my mind, and I asked my best friend when your birthday was. It was coming up in a few days. And I felt calmer. In some way, I confirmed that everything was real and, above all, special.
Time went by, and you started to dream about me. The intrigue grew. The information was gradually spreading more evenly between us. And while you may not have had the memories of past lives together that I had, I knew – from our soul-to-soul conversations – that you were about to remember.
A BIRTHDAY POEM:
From time to time, the Sun returns to the exact point where it was on the day an element is born, the day that we arrive.
Now, looking at the sky, I wonder if the day you arrived,
right before forgetting about everything,
you felt that you left a part of you in the stars.
Because, as I look at the sky,
I can see a part of you in them, like a point.
A unique point.
A point where we begin to reproduce ourselves and come from a state of being to an existing form.
With a body and a name.
In a concrete story.
Like yours.
And while the Sun aligns at the exact point where it was when you were born,
the day you arrived,
I ask Him about your trips around.
Beautiful, He says.
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