Hereafter

Hereafter: Part III The Soul Stitchers, Chapter 38

38

ANTONIO WAS SO PENSIVE that I didn’t want to disturb his stream of rambling, yet insightful thoughts by interrupting him with questions. I could tell from his descriptions of what really mattered that his soul was indeed ready to graduate and face the next evolutionary challenge. Finally, he asked a question which gave me an opening to probe even deeper into his soul.

“I’m still not sure how we were supposed to know how to fulfill our mission back on Calidari. I mean it all seemed to work out, but it just as easily could have . . . you know what I mean. How did you know what to do?”

“Hey . . . I’ll bet your tea is cold . . . let me warm it up for you,” I suggested which gave me a few moments to plot a helpful, yet not-too-revealing reply.

At the Soft Landing Café their equivalent of a microwave was a special zone on the table that if you set your mug there all you had to do is press a button and it would either warm it up or cool off whatever you placed there. Steaming once again, I proceeded to respond to his comment.

“I’m glad to hear I wasn’t the only one who shudders to imagine a much different ending on Calidari. In my case especially—this was all supposed to be about me getting it right. Think about it, though, what choices did we really have?” I posed, knowing where I wanted to go with the remark, but not sure Antonio was on the same page.

I could see him squinting as he thought back, sampling the timeline of his last life.

“As a child, what I experienced just seemed normal, it wasn’t good, but it’s how everyone lived outside of the Citadel. I remember not wanting to end up like my zombie parents, but as a kid you don’t think that far ahead—it’s just about living moment to moment,” he mused.

“I so agree . . . and it’s not like we had much of a choice about what we were going to be doing with our lives anyway. School was a joke. All our courses were picked for us based on those boring tests.” I added.

“And if they couldn’t keep grooming us for a particular task, something that fit into their plans, it was off to some factory,” he remarked.

“Come to think of it, if my sister hadn’t gone missing on Graduation Day, I’m not sure I would have had the strength or motivation to risk everything to do something about it.”

“Yes, you wanted to get Kristen back, but you also wanted to help the many others who were suffering under the Citadel’s dictatorship. That’s about Caring. Your capacity for Love was growing, expanding, and without that fundamental spiritual choice, the overthrow of the Citadel would not have been possible. In the end, Love was stronger than Hate. You had to be able to love someone else more than yourself, and, in terms of our spiritual journey, prove that capacity with your deeds, which you certainly did.”

“I appreciate your sentiments in laying everything out so clearly and logically, but I don’t mind telling you just how scared and terrified I was from the minute I decided to fight back. And by myself nothing would have changed. Why did people join me—how could they have risked their very lives for a cause that had no chance of succeeding?” I posed, without really understanding what the answer could possibly be.

Antonio didn’t have a quick answer, exhaled slowly, turned away, and sipped his tea before attempting an explanation.

“It’s all about hope, I think. Just being alive isn’t good enough for people with a mind and soul. We’re programmed to want, need more than bread and water. Without the opportunity to express and fulfill our humanity, without hope, life isn’t something to be cherished. A great movement, however, often needs a leader—someone with the courage and insight to point the way—a catalyst to facilitate change.”

“I guess I can accept that, but let’s get down to brass tacks, why did you decide to help us so early on when we were just getting started. You had a pretty cushy job and you earned enough money to at least feed yourself. What made you risk everything?”

A deep breath, a few more sips of tea, eyes widening, all a prelude to Antonio drafting his surprising reveal.

“It was you . . . all you, Fallon . . . your passion lit a fire inside and your plan made me believe we had a chance to succeed. Later on, learning about the Creator, tapping into all that power, and knowing that whatever happened, my life would not end with death, continuing the fight felt like the only thing I could do.”

“Of course, I believe what you’re telling me, but you have to know I never expected anything to come from my personal struggle beyond a public execution in the center of Raftalgar Square ending my life and the movement,” I admitted honestly, still looking back with awe and wonder at the power of the Living God to support our hopes and dreams.

“Sure, that could have happened, and it certainly happened to many before you—to anyone who dared challenge the control of Citadel, but that’s not what happened to you or to the movement, is it,” he added reflectively.

“In the midst of an incarnation we never get to see the big picture, the overall Plan, nor is it clear that we’re all connected so that what happens to one of us affects everyone—what one of us thinks or feels spreads to everyone’s heart, soul, and mind. This great collective consciousness disperses the grand mind and will of God among us. It is a formidable weapon with which to defeat any enemy,” not always sure where some of my more nerdy musings actually originate.

“I just realized that working for the Masters will not at all be like the conditions during a mission. We’ll be completely aware of the Big Picture at all times, in fact, we’ll be helping shape the Creator’s Grand Design for the world where we’re sent.”

“That’s right, but I’m not sure things will be any easier. Just think, we’ll know what we want to happen, but we can’t make it happen ourselves, despite our considerable powers,” I quickly added.

“It’s going to take patience and insight, nudging without pushing, prodding without infringing on anyone’s free will. Knowing when to act and when to pull back will not be easy. You know, it would be helpful to find out if any of the Masters were involved in helping us on Calidari,” Antonio reasoned in a flash of inspiration.

“Absolutely . . . if they will answer a few questions about that it would be a good way to get our bearings for our first assignment,” I agreed, now more eager than apprehensive about how we could make a difference for the Greater Good.

“So . . . what do you think . . . should we let the Masters know we’re ready to join them and be briefed for our first mission?” Antonio queried with little-to-no uncertainty or regret about what we might be leaving behind in the bargain.

I paused, but not long enough to mean anything.

“Yep . . . let’s do it.”