The last day of our retreat holiday has arrived. Both of us want more time here. I’m reluctant to pack everything up or get ready. Leaving is hard work.
I’ve stayed in my pjs most of the day. It’s like I’m reluctant to get dressed. As soon as I do I know we will have started the journey home. Even if we don’t set off straight away. I do want to go home. I have cats who will have missed us. There are things to do, not least my book and the Centre, and I want to sleep in my own bed again. I’m reluctant because I know I’m going back to the hustle and bustle of a busy life. Don’t misunderstand. I choose to be busy because I love the work I do. Yet I know I need times when I can withdraw from all of my commitments so I can look at things from a different point of view.
I was thinking about this and the journey home when one of my Guides popped in. He’s a lovely man who made the final journey home not that long ago really.
One of the hardest things to face is that final journey home. Many Spirits come back to talk to their loved ones still rather torn between the peace of the Afterlife and the passion of wanting to still be here in the lives of their loved ones. We have to face up to the fact that we don’t know when we will be making our last trip home. It’s hard to prepare for but it will happen. I know that my understanding of past lives helps me with this. Returning to the Pink Perfect of Afterlife is like being on a retreat or holiday. Yet it is the first home we came from and the place we are certain to go back to.
This trip to Earth is really only a short time of busyness before returning to be with the rest of the people we care about. Looking at my life as a series of trips, including in all my past lives, I know I can choose to be here or to be there. And that wherever I am I can still be present in the lives of all the people I care about. That’s what my Guides represent. Something that is called the continuous existence of the human soul in spiritualist principles. Life goes on on both sides of the divide. The connections may be patchy or non-existent at times but the links are still there.
It may be that I never return to the little sandy bay in Scotland where I’ve spent some lovely time. I will have memories. It may be that I visit a different sandy beach somewhere else in the world. There will be new memories.
Going home is about returning to my base, my foundation. Not bricks and mortar or a place. My foundation is the inner me. The me who fell to earth many years ago. That source me who will retreat to another existence after my physical body stops working. When it’s my time I may be reluctant but I will still go. It’s one of the truths of life.
Day 262 of my blogging challenge.