Maria's Soul Journey

Childhood: a presence that was always there

We began by walking back through her childhood. At twelve, at a cousin's sleepover, she found a room full of presence: golden and white light, warmth she could still feel as she spoke, dolphins and whales that "know me and they're celebrating." A being with an elongated face sent golden light from its forehead to her heart. Its message was short: the time is now.

At seven, in her parents' bedroom, she felt the heavy energy of an argument she was never told about. Yet she said, "I also felt very loved and very protected." At three, she slid down a forbidden pole, hurt her face, and watched herself step out of her body to go swimming in the river. Everyone around her panicked. She was happy.

The womb: installing brakes

In her mother's womb the body felt strange, as if it were still outside her. She said she joined it at two months, slowly.

Then came one of the session's clearest images. The brain she was entering felt "almost not human", powerful and already working hard. So she began, in her words, installing brakes on it: layers of protection timed for different ages. She named them one by one, from nine months through childhood and her twenties into her thirties, ending with "the last one" at the present stage of her life, "and then no more brakes."

In her intake Maria had asked why she suppressed the sensitivity she had as a child. Here the session offered an image rather than a verdict: the closing down as something she chose, as protection, with an end date.

She described the body as very dense, and said it could become lighter through sound: the sea, heartbeat, deep voices singing, flowing water, birds. She chose it, she said, because its story, its genes and its blood would let her continue her journey.

A life as Christine, 1868

She stepped out of a tunnel of light into a forest of very tall trees. She was barefoot, in a thick, rough, dark brown dress, with loose hair and a ring set with a green stone. Her name was Christine. The year was 1868, and she spoke English.

At around twenty she was in a kitchen with pain in her belly while a woman brewed her a remedy of plants. On the table stood oils that smelled like the ones Maria uses today: lemongrass, mint. Christine was learning about health, especially women's health.

Later she was hiding in a cave with people from her town, telling stories while something unfolded outside. On her last day, in old age, she lay in bed with a priest present, surrounded by purple light.

Looking back, she called it a quiet life, harder at times, ending well, with a sense of accomplishment. She had shared knowledge simply by being present. Its lessons: nature holds many of her answers; trust the wisdom and intuition already inside; the feminine knows.

Then her hands came alive. She felt a great current of energy running into them, the healing power Christine had carried. At the moment of death she clung to it, and to the people she loved. She wanted to pass that power on to her son before she could let go. Her mother was waiting on the other side, with others behind her, telling her they were proud of her life.

The crossing

What came next did not look like a tunnel. She moved through "pixels": patterns of light she could play with and become anything, a flower, a baby, an animal, water that was and was not water. "This is my home," she said. "I feel really emotional."

Three figures she had met many times before came to greet her: the archangel Uriel, Jesus and Mary Magdalene. Two more stood with them whose faces she was not allowed to see, shapeless as shadows, and also family. They circled her. Their message was simple: you are one of us.

The guides often spoke all at once, loudly, and laughed a great deal. Maria kept noting their sense of humour. Again and again, when she asked a question, they answered that she already knew.

Why Earth, of all places? "I chose it," she said: to serve the planet and humanity, and to learn to forgive herself.

Asked to look at herself as a soul, she saw golden and white, with a little blue. Then her soul companions came, one by one and in groups, with more still coming.

Why do they keep incarnating together? Because they share one purpose. They move in and out of each other's lives, "activating or deactivating things," as reminders of what they came to do. "We become each other's mirrors." Sometimes one of them agrees, beforehand, to take a harder role so another can learn what they need to learn. The mission underneath is always love, light and joy, "creative joy," because joy can create life.

And how do they find each other? Through something deeply shared: a passion, a meaning, a role. "Through that connection we become aware of each other. And then we remember."

In her intake Maria had written that some people arrive "not as complete strangers," as if "we are meeting and remembering at the same time." Her guides gave her own sentence back to her.

The group showed her an architecture: a structure that holds circles and spirals of people transforming one another. She is part of building it. Some will be afraid to step in, because inside they find themselves and their freedom. "I can't force them. I just need to offer," with patience and love. They named the tools she would use: meditation, coaching, transpersonal coaching and psychology, hypnosis, AI, and guiding people to safe places where they can connect.

Overseeing this group of five, she said, is Mary Magdalene. Her counsel was not to go back to older wisdom, because "you are creating wisdom."

The white city, and the image that came back

Near the end they showed her ruins of an ancient city under the sea, and then a city that was not human: very white and transparent, almost like ice, with buildings taller than anything she had seen. Asked what to do with all of this, they said: keep talking and writing.

Then, as she looked up, the white towers became angel wings: very tall angels standing in a circle around her, and a sun rising from behind them.

She recognised it. It was the vision from the difficult days after her first son's birth: the world ending, the shadow, the phoenix bringing light back to the Earth. Now she saw what lay beyond the phoenix: the towers that became angels, and the sunrise. She said the image brought her a great deal of peace.

None of these are answers in the sense of proof. They are what arrived when each question met the session.

Maria feared her analytical mind would get in the way. It did not. She stayed lucid throughout, at one point remarking that she was very aware she was talking to me as a human, and still she let the experience lead. When the words ran out she said so, and kept perceiving.

Three threads stay with me. First, the brakes: a closing-down she had carried as loss returned as an act of care, with its final brake set at the present. Second, her own phrase about meeting and remembering came back from her soul group almost word for word. Third, the vision that had puzzled her for years was completed: the shadow and the phoenix now lead to a circle of angels and a sunrise.

The guides' warning that "it's gonna feel heavy before it feels light" points at something I see in many sessions. As I often say, "Fundamental Peace is not the absence of pain… it is the transmutation of its energy into love and compassion." Maria's journey was that movement, from sacrifice toward a love that includes herself.

Her homework, by her guides' account, is ordinary and concrete: water, meditation, nature, people, talking and writing. Integration matters as much as the session itself, and she has asked for quiet time to let it settle.