You’re looking good these days, I thought.
It is the age and appearance I most closely associate with myself.
Truth was, she looked nothing like the old photographs in Peter’s house...but also different. In fact, she looked even more tantalizingly familiar.
It is the form I had when last I was your sister.
And when was that?
Two lifetimes ago.
You’re weird, I thought, and gave her, I supposed, a very sisterly grin.
Of course, anyone looking at me would have thought I was just grinning at the book, that I had found something in the Wicca primer as funny. That was actually very much not the case. I found the book enchanting, no pun intended. The spells, the potions, the lifestyle, the festivals, the sabbats or holidays, all felt familiar, comfortable, something I knew in my heart I had done before, and had experienced often.
Although familiar, I had no direct access to my past lives, at least not at this time in my life. Probably a good thing, too. Life was challenging enough as it was.
Can other people see you? I telepathically asked Millicent.
One or two can feel me, but that’s about it.
Indeed, a woman sitting not too far away glanced over at me often, and rubbed her arms. She was, I suspected, a sensitive-in-training, whether she knew it or not.
That I was about to meet Penny’s teacher later today made me nervous. I wasn’t a trained investigator. I didn’t know what I would say to him, or even how to go about saying it. All I knew was that the more I thought about him, the more I didn’t like him.
I’m meeting Penny’s teacher today.
I’m well aware that you are about to meet the teacher. We all are.
We? I asked.
Your helpers, dear.
My guides?
Yes, of course.
Does he know something?
There is a natural order to all that is, dear. A natural order to revelation, as well.
And to justice? I asked.
Yes, dear. The timing had not been right.
Until now? I asked, but she remained silent about that. She did that to me, and it was aggravating. And since she was in spirit and not detailed enough for me to read her expressions, I had to accept her silence, although I didn’t like it.
I sighed and returned to the book, in particular, to a section that had piqued my interest earlier. It discussed telekinesis, and something about the subject sent a jolt through me.
According to the Wicca primer, few had the ability of telekinesis—that was, to move objects with one’s mind—but, with years of work and arduous study and applying oneself diligently, one could possibly develop a trace of this ability.
As I read the section again and again, I sensed a growing excitement in me. Now, why was that?
Because, child, you have put in the work already.
I looked at Millicent, who was now standing before me, next to a woman in line. The woman kept looking behind herself, rubbing her neck and shivering.
What do you mean? I asked.
You have spent lifetimes perfecting telekinesis.
Little good that does me now.
Not true, dear. Your higher self remembers all the lessons. It’s imprinted in you, permanently, waiting for you to explore it again. To summon it again. You would be what many call a prodigy.
Is that why prodigies are so gifted at a young age? I asked, sitting back. This was a new concept for me.
Exactly, dear. They were masters in previous incarnations. It doesn’t take much to awaken their soul memory. And it won’t take much for you, either.
I thought about that...and the excitement continued to grow. Was it possible? I didn’t know, but the book pointed out that telekinesis went beyond just moving objects with one’s mind. Advanced telekinesis, as performed by true masters, also involved creating objects from the ether-sphere. No, not quite the ether-sphere. From the God energy that permeated everything. The energy was there, waiting to be used, waiting to be manipulated, waiting to be formed into something new, something powerful, something beautiful.
This was heavy stuff, and just the thought that I might have mastered some of this stuff was exciting in and of itself.
Anyway, the book suggested a simple exercise to test one’s current level of telekinesis. But don’t get your hopes up, the book cautioned, as few would see results, and those who did were in a rarefied group.
Rarefied...I liked that.
I almost smiled.
Okay, I did smile.
Broadly.
Anyway, the book suggested taking out your keys and placing them before you. Keys held a lot of spirit energy, residual energy, as they were often in contact with people, and held a special connection to home and health and valuables and protection.
I did so now, taking out my rather thick ring of keys from my oversized handbag. Yes, I’m a girl. I placed the wad of keys on the table before me. The whole shebang clattered loudly, as well they should. It was a big wad.
Next, I cleared my thoughts, focused my intent, exerted my loving will onto the physical world, and saw in my mind’s eye the atoms and energy rearrange themselves in accordance with my desire.
At least, that was the plan.
I did this again and again, and waited for something to happen. Nothing did. Oh, well.
Patience, child, came Millicent’s words. Now try again. Go deeper.
But I am at a Starbucks.
God is in Starbucks, too, don’t you know?
Well, we all need our coffee, I thought.
I closed my eyes and tried again, and did my best to tune out the chattering and the tapping of keyboards, of the door opening and closing, of people laughing and kids playing. Yes, it was a busy Starbucks. A minute or two later—or perhaps longer, hard to know with meditation—a peaceful bliss came over me. I was deep. At least, as deep as I could hope for in the land of coffee.
Now, I saw the keys in my mind’s eye, glowing softly, surrounded by what very easily could have been God energy. Then again, what did I know? With eyes still closed and my physical hands still in my lap, I mentally reached out and took hold of the keys. Why I did this, I didn’t know. Something within me just knew that to do this exercise correctly, I needed to reach out mentally.
I did so now, seeing my ethereal hand grab hold of the keys, and as I did so in my mind, I heard the keys in the real world move ever so slightly. A small scraping sound on the table.
Good, child. Good.
Heart thumping and excitement swelling within me, I held the image of me mentally holding the keys as I opened my eyes. It was this dichotomy of telekinesis, I knew, that tripped up so many would-be practitioners: that of holding a mental image of the object...and also seeing it in real time.
But I seemed to hold the image easily enough.