Posted by Ashara Morris, one of the writers of this Blog.
I seem to write a great deal about my family. They are a wonderful source of fodder for this blog; I’ve learned so much about myself through them over the years. My childhood was what one might call fairly idyllic; protected, loved, and while I was sent some messages that I’ve had to work through over the years, I was blessed with a general sense of well-being and goodness that has carried me in dark times.
I grew up in a fairly religious setting, and reincarnation wasn’t a topic of discussion at our table; however, my work with animals has certainly shown me the possibility, and I now embrace the concept fully. It is a complex topic, and one about which I have no complete answer. But I do believe that after we are finished with our current body, we DO continue, in one form or another. I’m pretty certain I was a horse in my most immediate past life – why else would I have such a knowing of what it felt like to be a horse? It was so much so that as a kid I walked like a horse, I ran like a horse, and when I competed in foot races I couldn’t just “trot” – I had to canter or gallop. which in a human body is actually pretty slow (with the result that I usually lost the race, even though I may have been ahead at the “trot”). It took me years to let go of that feeling.
I’ve only had a few of what I will call “deep-ish” conversations with my dad. One of them involved his philosophy about where we go after we die. He had decided somewhere along the line that when we kick the bucket, that’s it. He only went to church because it pleased my mom. I’m pretty sure he never shared that with her, and I certainly didn’t say anything.
So imagine my surprise when, a few days before his passing, I got a message through the ether from him, letting me know that he was on his way to the other side. We had a lovely conversation while I removed manure from our horse paddocks. I decided I was either crazy or actually “talking” with my dad, 1500 miles away. He left his body within 36 hours of that little talk. Huh.
After he passed, I came home for the funeral, and sitting in their former master bedroom, the hangers in what had been his closet started to jingle – the door to that closet was closed, and there was no air stirring. When I said it was freaking me out, it stopped. Papa was sending me messages.
Dad passed in 2005. Fast forward to about a year ago. I had a booth as a reader at a Body Mind Spirit Expo, my first, and a lovely couple stopped by my booth. After much trying and being told it would never happen, they were pregnant with their first child, a girl who was already named: Juliana. They wanted to make sure their two dogs understood that the birth of Juliana a few months in the future would impact everyone, but would not lessen their love for their canine friends. They were hoping the dogs would embrace their new human sister as she became part of the family. The dogs were of course thrilled to be involved in this process and said they would greet her with open paws.
I read for a lot of people and their animals at the expos, and very often someone will sit down in front of me and I don’t remember them. That was the case with this
family, who stopped by my booth again at the fall event. This time there were three of them; mom, dad, and their little girl. We chit-chattted a bit, I asked when their daughter had been born, and they said in January. “Oh, how sweet,” I replied, “I have two puppies who were born in January, so she must be about 9 months old. What is her birth day?”
“Wow,” I said, “that’s my dad’s birthday.” It was then I noticed that this 9-month old child was doing an inordinate amount of staring at me. I paused. “Nahhhhh,” my brain whispered. “That’s just a coincidence.”
She stared harder, little Juliana. Her eyes looked brown. My dad’s eyes were brown. The more we gazed at each other, the more the layers peeled away. I saw my dad’s face in hers. I know that Spirit always makes it easy for us to connect the dots, if we will just let go of our notions of “how things work” and allow the magic. There he was! This beautiful little girl was the essence of my father. I started to cry. Miracle child, indeed.
Her parents were thrilled, and told me that although their dogs were doing great with Juliana, they had been compelled to seek me out and say hello. I felt twenty times blessed.
As they prepared to leave, they handed Juliana to me. I have never been comfortable holding small children, but I embraced her as the friend and teacher that she always has been, and always will be. I noticed that her eyes are not brown at all; they’re blue. The spirit she is showed me what I needed to see to connect the dots, and then settled back into her Juliana body, which doesn’t actually look like my dad at all.
As I’ve opened my heart, it has opened my eyes and my entire being to possibility. It is a journey I never thought I would take, and one that I wouldn’t miss for anything. What next?