A StarSeed Awakens

NAHLEE HAS AWAKEN

Early Hours of 12.11.12

Nahlee's brown almond eyes fluttered open in fear capturing every detail in the eerie moonlit silence. Her heart racing like a wild horse set loose. She gasped for breath in the stillness of her bedroom, immersed in the ethereal glow of the silver full moon. Her walls glimmer with a gentle light, creating mysterious shadows that seem to adapt to the rhythm of her beating heart.

She sat slowly while stunned by the neon green digits of her bedside clock formed a triad of threes: 3:33 am. A shiver trickled down her spine, goosebumps rising on her skin-it was her shamanic intuition speaking through her. She recognized it.

A soft humming filled her ears, growing stronger and more insistent with each passing second. It seemed to vibrate through her entire body, expanding rapidly like tuning forks, creating a symphony of resonance that aligned her with the frequency's purpose. A faint scent of sage and incense harmonized the energy in the room, reminding her of ancient tribal rituals. She thought the very universe was whispering in her ear, urging her to rise and create. She could hardly contain the words unfolding inside her mind, waiting to be brought to life.

She stretched out her arm, barely responsive, reaching for the laptop on her nightstand without turning on the lamp. The moonlight was her ally, illuminating the bedroom like a soothing shawl. As her fingers pressed softly against the keyboard, words flowed out on an unstoppable stream of energy that she could barely keep up with. "Am I channeling?", with awe wondered. Like her mother, she discovered the gift in her.

Her wavy, shiny black hair cascaded into her face, obstructing the view. She paused only to sweep it behind her ears before returning her gaze to the screen.

The words, in full autonomy, were concise and to the point, packed with raw emotions quickly uncovering the story's purpose. As Nahlee channeling deepened, the image of a vibrant young woman from the 1800's appeared in her mind. The scene changed rapidly, now the woman older and forced into marriage to a bad-tempered ill wealthy old man. A deep sadness in this woman's chest hollered captive's tears from surrendering her sole creative passion: white canvas with infinite possibilities waiting impatiently for colorful strokes. In her last moments, the woman's face was etched with deep lines of loneliness and bitterness. Her once bright eyes had grown dull and clouded with sadness as she lay on her deathbed.

"Where is this coming from?" Nahlee whispered, almost afraid that speaking louder would break the connection guiding her hand. As she read, her face pressured by the overwhelming sadness of this woman's broken heart. Desperately seeking an exit for these emotions, her stomach clenched tightly, and contained tears finally rolled down. The words on the page seemed to speak directly to her, like they were plucked from her own soul. She was astonished by the profound impact this story had on her.

By the time the sky began to lighten, Nahlee's writing slowed. She set the laptop carefully down. Wiped her tear-swollen face with tissues. Compassionately looked at her gray old cat, Jack, and gently said "Let's bring the empty canvas from the storage tomorrow. We have work to do". As she sank deeper into her bed, her mind racing with a thousand questions, she let the mystery of the night fade.

The morning seemed in haste. Rushed herself for another day at the office. "The 9 to 5 prison, again" she reminded Jack, while having a light breakfast.

Lost in a whirlwind of tasks at work, she barely noticed her coworker waving a hand in front of her face and saying, "Hey, Nahlee! Love, come back to earth." She found herself distracted by questions that her mind alone kept.

Finally, at home after an endless day, Nahlee gazed with desire and impatience at the many white canvas and painting supplies she brought from the storage unit that afternoon.

Somewhere in time, the artist of the 1800's smiled deep within herself; her mistakes balanced by the new colors of Nahlee's paintbrush towards a new life.

At the end of the night, Jack patiently stood at the bedroom door, looking directly at Nahlee's eyes, inviting her in. Comfortably, she laid down under her grandmother's quilt, which was adorned with vibrant colors and patterns that held special meaning for her Navajo traditions. Wrapped in a soothing warmth, a serene smile graced her lips as the ancient energy of her shamanic roots flowed proudly through her veins. Jack slowly curled up beside her, its eyes watching over her with a gentle, unwavering vigilance.

Meanwhile, driven by her natural curiosity, Nahlee came across an article on her tablet. "The Influence of Past Lives on the Present", and she gasped softly with wonder.

"Did the woman's story hold traces of my past life?", she mumbled. "If so, could a hidden cause from a past life explain the distant and cold dynamic between me and my brother?" her aching heart pondered these questions. A vivid memory from her childhood resurfaced. She remembered her loving grandmother's words before bed, "If you ask a question, the answer will come in your dreams." And that night, she asked.

As Nahlee turned off her tablet, the room grew darker except for the subtle silver glow of the moon. She settled deeper into her bed, seeking hidden connections or behavioral patterns unseen. "Maybe this life was an opportunity to heal wounds carried across centuries," she wondered while drifting off to sleep.

Early Hours of 12.12.12

Nahlee's eyes snapped open; the glowing digits of her alarm clock pierced the night: 3:33 am again. The darkness of her bedroom momentarily disorienting but she had a strong urge to write. And gripped her entire being, again. Her lap was filled with anticipation as she reached for the laptop on her nightstand.

Words tumbled out, a frenzied stream of consciousness that she did not pause to decipher. As Nahlee's fingers traced words across the keyboard noticed the channeling becoming clearer. Suddenly, in her eye's mind, an image of a lonely desperate old man from the 1920's. In deep sorrow for past mistakes, his yearning was to be understood, to be loved and cared for, poured into Nahlee's soul. A shiver ran entirely through her, goosebumps rising as realization dawned; the melancholic figure bore a striking resemblance to her own brother. His cold indifference suddenly took on a new meaning.

The intense pace of her writing slowed, her shoulders slumped, weighed down by an invisible burden. She leaned back against her pillows, breathless. Running her hand through her sleek dark hair while salty tears streamed down her face.

She stared off into the distance as if seeking answers in the air - could the coldness between her and her brother be a rift much older than either of them? Was their current estrangement a ripple from a past life? Nahlee's eye widened as she stood frozen, assimilating this new revelation.

She hugged herself tightly as long overdue tears silently turned into a sudden sorrowful lament. She felt the weight of bitter centuries exposing a peak of judgmental misunderstandings. As soothing tears washed away her pain and sadness, she realized how much she missed her older brother. Memories of him teaching and protecting her flooded her aching soul, revealing a forgotten side of him she deeply longed for.

Through her bedroom window, a golden light posed kindly on Nahlee's eyelids announcing a brand-new day. Her eyes glassy and puffy, with remnants of dried tears, blinked compassionately reflecting a new perception and awareness.

"Oh, my sweet Jack" Nahlee murmured to his ears, "Today we'll call John" she affirmed. "After eight years, I'll bet we have plenty to catch up on". Jack with tired eyes, glanced up to her, softly curling his tail closer.

A fresh canvas was emerging in Nahlee's life, anticipating an exciting new rich palette of passionate brushstrokes indeed.

With the Awareness of Unconscious Beliefs,

Comes the Dawn of New Choices and Emerging Patterns,

Exposing Connections that Transcend Time and Space.