I dedicate this site to the memory of my stepdaughter, Heather, who was murdered on Thanksgiving 2017. I want to chronicle some of the events and spiritual insights that happened. It is my hope that this may help some other souls who stumble upon this site. Maybe some good can come off this after all (read more here).  ~ May 2018

Inner Voices, Heather: On Paris, imagining, painting in futures and experiencing TROUGH us

5/1/2019  5:45 a.m.   

[We just returned from a trip to Paris last evening.]

May 1st .  Labor day [in Europe].  Dawn. Beautiful dawn.  Drinking in the dawn, along with some coffee (too strong).

It’s been an interesting few days.  Paris, with the kids. Tying up timelines, creating new ones. Claude and Camille – so beautiful.  Orgasmic?  [Painters: Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro]

And dreams of the “roots of time and existence.”  

All so interesting.

So Heather, Claude, Camille?  
My Club?  “Le Club de Hanns?”  [laughing, trying to say it in my best French ]

Is anybody here?  I was and am having fun.  If not [if nobody comes through], then it is also OK.
Let me concentrate.

I am getting “Fun.” And “Heather.”  And her saying,  “I am so excited! Oh, it will be so much fun…”*

*[last week, early in the morning, I had thought about how we had planned before her death that she was to come with us.  It would have been the perfect trip.  I felt sadness.  At that moment I had picked up a voice – her voice—and I heard her say "I am so excited! Oh, it will be so much fun..."  ]

[nothing is coming through.  Just sitting. Being. Listening.  Another cup of Java.  Sipping. Smiling.  Happy.]

...and then it starts.  Heather comes through.  Is it my subconscious, my inner Heather?  Am I making this up? Or is there more?  I cannot say.  Yet a beautiful dialogue unfolds. 

Enjoy.


Hanns (H):  so, any inner voices?  Are you there?
A Voice :  [quietly] Yes, we are here.

H:  Ahhhh, that is just me saying.
Voice:  Yes and no.

H: So what’s up?

Heather (HER): It’s me, Hanns  [only she did not say “Hanns”, but used an inside joke].

H:  Did you have fun? [in Paris]
HER: I had so much fun. It was just like I imagined, you know?

H: I did not know that people in Heaven imagine anything.
HER: Oh we do.  You know it’s a bit different than what you think. Think of an image.  Of Claude’s painting, the poppies.*

*[After I wrote about Claude Monet's painting last week, I took the opportunity while being in Paris and we went to the Museum d’Orsay to see the real painting.  So stunningly beautiful, as are all the other paintings.  Oh, I should have been an artist! Well, I got close, didn’t I, Walt? ]

Claude let nature inspire him, and he painted his impression.
But he had an image in mind.
He had imagined it, sort of finished.
That’s what most artists do:  they imagine.
And then they create. To bring it into existence.

We/I do that, too.

We imagine. [ *see the note below the dialogue, I looked up the word, and it fits!]

Only we paint in futures.

There are dark futures and bright futures.  Only we don’t judge. It is all the same, more or less to us.  But through you, you are the brushes that we paint all futures into being.

And experience them.

All.

It’s all so simple, and beautiful, if you could but see it.

So through you, I experienced all Paris.

Since you two split [our little party of five split into two groups], I got to see the two sides, you know, the touristy through the eyes of D/J, all excited and giddy.  The in depth version, of cafes and shopping, through you and mom.  And a bit of tension between the two, before they all went and got it separated out.

It all worked.  With only these two versions, I got to experience so much.
And that was only those experience in this branch [of time, only one of many possible timelines].

So thank you for showing me Paris from so many sides.

H: I had a feeling…  I am just so sorry for mom how she felt at the end.

HER: Well, you know.  Mom is just very emotional.  So was I.
She has an inner conflict that came out.  Of trying to please everybody. I had my conflict, too, as you and I know very well, right?  [laughing ]

We are not perfect beings.

What is?  Who is?

“It is what it is,” as I used to say.

And so it is with mom:  She is who she is.

That is her.

In another branch [timeline], she would have gone with D/J, and she would have felt bad, too, if you had stayed behind.  
So you see, she could not have been different.

She is who she is, and that end just brought it out.

And the “end,” put that in quotations, was very appropriate because it showed the inner conflict, which is her, so very well.

She is who she is.  That’s why we love her.

H:  Yes.  That’s why we love her.

HER: Amongst you five, she is the most emotionally strung.
And through her, I got to feel the sad side of leaving, of going apart once more.
Just as it was when I left. [when I died]
But I am here, always here, with her.

H:  Am I making this up?

HER (Emphatically):  NO !  [ underlined].

I was [underlined]  with you in Paris.
Just like I should have been.
It was part of the plan.
Either alive, of in spirit.

H:  I got up last night, and saw your torch, burning at midnight.

[Heather's twin flames: a simple solar powered light ornament, one in our garden, one at her grave-site a half a world away]

[looking at it right now, pulling myself in ]

HER: just like that flame last night.
I am always here.
Burning, inside of you.

Just remember: we imagine, too.
“Image” – look it up.

Only we paint through you.

H:  Wow.  A beautiful dialogue.

HER:  It all is beautiful.  And not.  We don’t judge.  You [as beings in this world]  judge, with your emotions.

H: I made all this up.
HER:  You did and you did not [ smiling, laughing ]

And that, you have to learn to understand.  It is all so clear to me from here.

“Clear” – remember? – that means light.
We paint in light.  
Through you.

Little Monet.  [OK, now she is making fun of me  ]
Now go and paint.
Give mom a hug.

H:  I feel an end coming up.
HER:  Yes, only, it never ends.
Never ending.
Endings and beginnings in every moment.

Just like little dots of color.

Dot. Dot.  DOT [underlined]  [ Laughing]
Now paint.

H:  Stop now?
HER:  If you wish.

H:  Do I want to stop?  Yes. [underlined]
OK, thank you.

HER:  if we only got along like this when I was alive, right [underlined] ?  [ laughing]
HA:  For sure.  [laughing]
Bye.

….

Beautiful dawn.  Thank you.


NOTE added later: 

After the dialogue was over, I looked up the word “image.” As always, I try to get the original sense of the word, like when it was first formed.

Image … from root *aim:  “to copy.

…. Also a lost connotation of “phantom, ghost, apparition”
… the meaning of “reflection in a mirror” is early 14c.

So the sense is to have a copy, of create a copy.

In all-D and the world-we-know it is like a copy of each other, a mirror image of the same thing.  

That is what she meant by image.  

[One note added later for myself:  there also is a mathematical meaning of image; from wikipedia:  Mathematics:  1) Some mapping by a function  2) The subset of a codomain comprising those element that are images of something.]

 

Namaste — I bow to you and the Divine in you.
~Hanns

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