Meeting with Mary and Jesus

 “Mariam,” the Monk said with great awe and reverence as he moved towards my left. I looked but was blinded by incredible light. I had to avert my eyes. I could still feel the light radiating through me. “What?” I said, confused that he had so abruptly stopped speaking to me. 

“Not ‘what’, ‘who.’ Her name is Mariam, but you know her as Mary.” 

It was like looking into the sun. 

“I don’t see anything,” I said, still straining with stunned eyes to see past the white brilliance radiating from the area Spirit indicated Mary was. But he was no longer focused on me. She was speaking to him and he gazed at her with apt admiration and devoted awe as she told him to tell me to not to try to look and that it was urgent that they tell me about my cousin, who was in contact with dangerous spirits and I needed to reach out to him and help him. 

“You don’t have to repeat what she said, I can hear you,” I said a bit sullenly, feeling like a frustrated child who grownups are talking about right in front of them. I continued to stare at the glow as it lessened and suddenly the figure of a woman appeared. 

I felt odd, like I wasn’t quite myself. Almost weightless like I was under water and only able to move in slow motion, like gravity had lessened its pull on me but I wasn’t quite in control of my movements. She looked to be about 30 or 40 with a brilliant youthful gleam in her big blue eyes and full round cheeks. Her mouth was a small perfect rosebud shape. Her eyebrows were full and rounded and her hair, parted in the middle, was a dark brown with a reddish tint that shone bright as her long thick curls fell over her shoulders. She wore a big white shawl like a veil that covered her shoulders and fell almost to the floor. It was secured at her waist by a sturdy yet dainty rope over a simple crew neck style hemmed light blue dress that gathered around her neck and tied in the back. Around her neck was a rough shaped clay circle inscribed with cuneiform markings on a long slim rope. I later found out that the inscription on her necklace was the “Our Father” and had been made for her by Jesus.

Spirit of Compassion said we looked like twins. I stared at her. We were the same size and even touched our hands together noting that we both had tiny hands and they were identical in size. By comparison I felt I looked like a drowned rat. She is lovely and perfect, she vibrates love and joy. I am tired and worn out with a deep sadness in my eyes.

“Knew you could see me!” she said excitedly. 

I realized she was the lady in blue I had seen in the room with Kate Hudson’s servants while they were packing up the Christmas supplies. I had asked what her name was but since no one else could see her they thought I had been talking to thin air or asking one of the servants to repeat themself.

She then started to tell me about my cousin and how he was also a healer and very spiritual but had taken a wrong turn and was now being influenced by negative entities by opening up himself to channeling dangerous vibrations during his meditations. She said we needed to help each other because we were both celestial on our Father’s side and were sent back to Earth to be Spiritual Teachers. They insisted that I talk to my cousin because he knows a lot about psychic and celestial stuff and could help me understand the necklace Spirit had shown me. The Lamed, the Shepard’s Staff. Spirit had been surprised I could see it, let alone be able to hold it. When I held it in my hands I had said it looked like a sword or a dagger-into-the earth type symbol, perhaps lightening. Spirit seemed to be impressed…? Amused?… by my answer. Spirit said it was a Shepard’s staff and signified healing and leadership. Spirit said I should keep the necklace, but I declined saying there was no way something so important was meant for me to have.

While she was talking I noticed a man sitting next to me on the couch. He didn’t say anything and I had to use all my power to focus on what Mary was saying so I ignored him.

Mary was talking about my cousin. She said my cousin was going down a path of self destruction by opening himself up to the Morning Star, Lilith and the Lion Headed Goddess. She said he is celestial and powerful beyond comprehension, but also human. One of many lights of spirit blessed with the honor and responsibility of a physical reality.

Then looking past me and over my right shoulder Mary said, “your brother is here.”

Confused, I turned to look in the direction indicated and there was a man sitting nearby. He was very handsome with longer sunbleached brownish red curls and a closely groomed full beard. His eyes reminded me of the color of the ocean, mostly gray with hints of blue and gold which lended to the overall effect of his eyes looking like a sage green. He was relaxed and regal, like a lion in repose. Patiently observing with a cool and amused confidence. His body was strong and deeply tan like he enjoyed being in the sun. He seemed back lit with a strong and protective aura of white gold joyfully and securely clinging to the edges of his shape.

I turned back to Mary and said, “that’s not my brother, he looks like he could be related to my brother but I don’t know him.” I was so confused, why would she think this man, who did seem familiar, was my brother?

“This is my son, Yeshua” Mary said, “and you are my daughter.”

A flow of soft shock wrapped itself around me. I turned back to the man and asked, “you are her son?”

They seemed of an age, but her energy was definitely that of a mature and loving mother. He sat next to me, or in front of me, it was hard to tell. He was on my right hand side and just past him in the corner of the room was Spirit of Compassion. It seemed he had moved further away out of respect and deference to the man on my right and Mary on my left. They all had so much energy that seemed to swirl and float silkily around us like a fine mist of snow that never quite fell all the way to the ground. I felt like the slow witted comic relief in a Shakespearean play. 

“Like Yahweh, or Jesus? Right, like the Jesus and your mom’s name is Mary… No way, you’re way too good looking. No offense. I mean you look like the classic Jesus paintings but I guess I just expected darker everything, perhaps even black,” I awkwardly rambled on trying to finish with a flourishing hand gesture towards him which to my horror ended up moving sloth like. 

My body felt separate from me, still a part of me but as if it were dreaming and I was awake. Each movement I tried to make felt like I was underwater. They smiled and laughed a little at my obvious surprise. At least they thought I was funny. 

“Yes like Yahweh, but you call me Shua like Joshua.Why does everyone think I’m black?” He asked.

I told him that we all assumed that the early church had white-washed Jesus to uphold and appease the vanities of the light skinned aristocracy. Also everyone wants the hero to be an underdog they can relate to, someone regular who overcomes their lack and as-it-may-be-called flaws to be the good savior of the people. Having him be so beautiful was hard, especially for me. I had learned at a young age not to trust beautiful people or those who tried to convince you they were perfect.

“That will serve you well, as beauty, but also looks in general, can be deceiving. It is best to judge a person based on their character and heart than on their appearance,” said Mary.

“I didn’t know Jesus had siblings,” I smiled weakly. I had been raised Catholic and in order to keep the sacredness of the virgin birth the Church had omitted all references to Jesus having siblings or even Mary having other children out of the mainstream bible.

“I am one of ten, not all of them are full blood,” he said.

I turned back to Mary, my mind still glazed and struggling to understand. I tried to make light of the situation and said, “so you’re not an eternal Virgin?” Instantly realizing the audacity of my question I felt my body begin to blush.

“No,” She said gently with an amused twinkle in her eye, “not that it matters. I was married and lived a full human life.”

“And you are his mother? How old are you? You both look about the same age,” I was grasping at straws. Something within me was trying to make sense of the situation even though it all seemed to already make sense in such a graceful and easy way. To accept their truth seemed too easy somehow.

“I am over 2000 years old,” she said.

“And you?” I asked him.

He shrugged and looked at his mother, “I am perhaps 33 years old and I am a virgin.”

“That is good. I am not a virgin, though sometimes I wish I were. But I was raped when I was a teenager and have been trying to overcome that trauma by trying to like sex and be able to have it sober. It took me a long time, years in fact, after the rape to trust anyone to even hug me let alone touch me sexually,” I stopped, “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“It is alright,” he soothed, “people can only speak the truth to me and I want to know you better. Do not judge yourself, you are safe.”

Ready to change the subject, I asked, “how did you get here. I didn’t see you come in.”

“I rode in on a cloud, because my Mother called me to come.” I gaped, he smiled mischievously and said, “Though I’ve heard I also have been said to ride a rainbow horse. I find a cloud more convenient.”

“Really? That’s cool,” I said dumbly. “Perhaps when the light hits the cloud it gives off rainbow colors and maybe your cloud was shaped like a horse,” I mused. We all laughed.

If I couldn’t touch myself I would have brushed this off as an out of body experience but I knew implicitly that I was physically there. I looked at my hands, turning them palms up and wondered how this could be happening to me. The most incredible shit was happening and everyone involved (Jesus, Mary and Spirit of Compassion) seemed surprised I was participating but also relieved I could see, hear and communicate with them.

Spirit of Compassion later told me that he couldn’t hear any of my conversation with Jesus and Mary. That when Jesus appeared he wasn’t allowed to participate so he waited quietly in the corner of the room.