The first time I saw him, and often afterward, his face was radiant. I had the thought he was a paternal ancestor. He always wore a white shirt and gray pants and looked at me as if I were familiar. This time, he summoned me. I approached him slowly, and when I was near he looked down into the water and spoke softly, as if to a child, “Follow the canyon”.

He turned and walked the long scarp on that side of the entrenched river that flowed over large rocks and fallen trees, some still green. Curious and trusting, I followed.

This man called himself Richard. He talked to me as we walked. He loved the place and seemed to have lived in the area a very long time, as if he had witnessed the epoch of erosion that created the magnificence surrounding us. Finally, we came to the place where the river drained into a pool of clear, hot water, bubbling lightly. It was strange, the river ending that way.

Richard pointed ahead at a white house on the low elevation in the sparse, peaceful woods, and as I looked at it, I saw that the river was flowing deep in the earth beneath the house enclosed by a white fence. Inside, I saw myself standing behind my nine-year-old son, Richard.

I looked closer and saw the same expression, that same radiance I’d seen so often (in visions) in the man who stood outside with me. I turned and looked at him, my son in that past life. I loved him.

As the vision shifted, the river surfaced, joining one of the many Asian rivers. Wearing black, loose fitting pants and shirt, a man stood on the bank near a fishing boat with which he made a living; his family and home were just behind him.

Another shift, and a poor man, wearing all white sat under alone under a palm tree, looking out over the water, desiring a better life. Thereafter I saw a woman living in poverty, wearing something that looked like a sack serving as a dress. She loved to write.

The river surfaced in another place, joining a lake of hot, bubbling water and while I pondered that, a flaming red, gurgling volcano suddenly appeared in the distance. I understood why the water in some of the rivers was hot when I realized I’d had intersecting views of past lives.

Once again a river appeared. On the bank was a Brother speaking to me from within a white, misty formation. He told me that I was not alone. No matter what happened, I was not alone.

Light and Love
Na’imah

Submitted by: Naimah on 01/22/2018

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