George Anderson - Walking in the Garden of Souls

The souls in the hereafter have been at it again.

January of 1996 is a rather unremarkable month in the memory of most people. It would have also been for me, but two rather remarkable things happened to make it stand out in my mind. The first happened when snow chose that month to tumble out of the gray sky in feet rather than inches, and then froze, turning New York into a city of crystal. The second remarkable thing came courtesy of those amazing souls in the hereafter. Amid the magical opulence of all that glistening snow, they found an opportunity to send another portrait of their universe, like a message in a bottle, to the earth. The opportunity came via a soul, reaching out to a loved one here, who explained the world of the hereafter in a way the souls had never done before. It was a curious analogyso simple that even we on the earth can understand, yet so profound that it could explain perfectly why life is the way it is, both here and hereafter. Life, the soul explained, is like a gardena magnificent Garden of Souls. What is planted by us in this lifetime will bloom for us in a life to come.

One particularly snowy day that January found us hovering around the phone in our office. The brave people who actually made it into work were now waiting anxiously for clients to cancel their appointments due to the inclement weather, so that they could go home before the roads got any worse. Everyone scheduled to attend an appointment that day had canceled, except for the five oclock appointment, who had yet to call us to say they couldnt attempt the trip out to Long Island. We waited, waited some more, and then tried calling. There was no answer, which meant they actually might have been foolhardy enough to brave the bad weather. Just in case they actually made it, I and my assistant decided to stay and make sure they wouldnt show up to an empty office. We waited, watching the snow turn to ice as the day got darker and colder.

At about ten minutes past five oclock, a young couple appeared in the lobby, wet and cold. The woman looked barely out of her teens, and her hair was dripping and matted to her face. The young man was about the same age and just as wet. They explained to me that they could not get a taxi to travel all the way here, so the driver took them as far as he was able, which was three blocks short of our location. They walked the rest of the way. I asked the young woman why she didnt just cancel if the going was so tough, but she responded resolutely, There is something I need to knowI need to have this happen. That was good enough for me, so we put their coats on the radiator to dry, gave them each a towel, and I began the session.

The souls seemed to move lazily through the beginning of the session, as if they were unsure as to who was going to communicate first. It felt as if they were stalling for time. One female presence seemed to drift into my focus, but she remained shadowy and tentative, as if not wanting to step any closer to us. She would have to come more into focus before I could understand her communication, so I waited for another soul to begin reaching out. An uncle and grandfather soon followed and began communicating to the young woman. The messages seemed to me rather innocuous and mundane, but the young woman listened intently to their communication. As I related their messages, my own feelings began to creep into my thoughts: this young woman, with her bright smile and sweet disposition, didnt seem old enough to have sustained any substantial tragedy. I was quite mistaken. Before I could even finish the thought, my mind was interrupted by the words, Im ashamed.

What? The words rang in my ears so clearly I thought they came from within the room.

What? the young woman asked me, confused.

She says shes ashamed.

Who? the young man asked.

Wait a minute, I told them. I listened more carefully to the soul communicating. She seemed to inch closer, as if testing the ground before her to make sure it was safe. She says this is Mother, and she says shes ashamed. What I thought was water from the young womans wet hair was actually the tears that came down her face in a sudden flood.

Ask her why this is happening, she pleaded, wiping her tears with the towel.

Lets let her go at her own pace, I cautioned her. The communication is always better when the souls are prompted by their own need to speak. The soul, who at first was so tenuous, now moved gradually closer to reach out to the young woman. She says to me, This is my daughter. She keeps telling me to tell you she is so sorry. She is ashamed of her behavior on the earth. The young woman nodded in agreement, so I continued. There is another female presence there with her... very young, a baby girl.

She didnt respond, so I looked up to make sure she understood. As I caught sight of her face, I noticed that her eyes were as wide as saucer plates, and she looked terrified. The young man next to her put his head in his hands and began to cry. The soul asked me to continue, however. And she says, I am still your child. You did nothing wrong.

As the session went on, the soul of the young womans mother told the difficult story of her own mental illness on the earth, her inability to cope with her daughter, and the neglect this young woman was made to suffer as a child. Eventually, the young woman married the gentleman seated next to her in the sessionboth, literally, to escape the dysfunctional houses they grew up in. Although they were just teenagers, they wanted to start a family right away and shower a child with the love they never felt they got as children themselves. A few months after they were married, they were expecting a child.

A few months into the young womans pregnancy, her mother passed on from the effects of alcohol abuse. The young womans feelings of freedom from her mothers cruelty and madness gave way to an obsessive fear that she was destined to become just like her, thinking she would also fall victim to the same mental illness and alcoholism that plagued her mothers distraught life. She began worrying constantly that she would not be a good mother, and had terrible thoughts of history repeating the same circumstances she lived through as a child. No matter how much her husband tried to console and reason with her, the fear grew worse each day. One night, in her fifth month of pregnancy, the young woman woke up in terrible pain. A few hours later, she had lost her unborn baby.