Excerpt "Beacon" A Glimpse of Magic Manifesting It

Desolate longing shattered the edges of my heart as I wakened again in that other life, the one that was not my own, not familiar—except in memories that seemed merely planted in my mindspace—messages from an imposter self.

Oh, my God, what have I done? How did I get here?

Darkness shrouded body and mind as I rolled over in the bed I knew, and yet it was not where I belonged. I’d made the bed. I was sleeping in it—and the dreams were fitful, full of tormenting loss and separation.

This is not me... I vowed as I wandered the timeline of that foreign life of solitude, of isolating perception and loss. That is not my story. I wept into my pillow, feeling acutely the presence of my Michael next to the bed where I lay. He was weeping as well, and my heart came undone.

I would sooner die…

“Would that I were dead,” I heard myself sobbing and felt it rending His heart. “Oh, Beloved, would that I were dead if it meant I could be with you.”

Shards of light and warmth scintillated down my spine, shafting out of my skull, dazzling with a kiss atop my head, and I sprang up in the bed, my spine snapping taut with tormenting ecstatic chills. My mind and heart focused in ardor, gathering into the moment, all of my Will, I summoned my Self into that expanding instant of now and heard my voice as from afar, uttering a solemn vow:

“What I have made of me is not fit to stand beside you, my Love. Therefore, take me apart and remake me as you would that I be.”

It tickled. That was how it started. It tickled, in my chest, my heart. And then it began to tickle everywhere: in my tailbone and at my navel and the top of my head. The tickling spread like rippling waves and I heard their humming, more like crackling and tinkling, and a voice laughed in the back of my mind. Its resonance was subtle and deep and like the sounds birds would make escaping their cages when they realized, at last: The doors had been open all along.

Angels sing in heaven this day, I heard Him say, that you spake aloud this solemn vow. But they will dance and fling wide the gates when they hear you so implore, “Thy Will be done”—and nothing more.

From "Beacon" by Callaghan Grant 2013