The Journey Home Read online

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS were special. Mike left the hospital with some pills that would help him with the pain, but he found that he didn’t need them. His jaw seemed to be healing with incredible speed, and he was able to exercise it gently. His speech was coming along fine. Eating, although a chore at first, came back to normal within a day or two. Through the process, pain simply wasn’t a concern. There was stiffness, but it was bearable under the circumstances. Mike didn’t want any pain pills to interrupt the “high” he was feeling about going on his spiritual quest. The cuts and bruises slowly vanished with time, although Mike was again astonished by how fast it was all happening.

  Mike quit his job over the phone. He had practiced doing it so many times in his mind; he really savored the act of terminating his connection with that awful job. He then called his friend John and explained as best he could that he would be leaving for an extended vacation and might not be back. John wished him well, but he expressed concern over Mike’s secrecy regarding his plans.

  “Buddy,” John had said persuasively, “you can tell me! I’m not going to do anything. What’s going on?” Mike knew very well that John would not understand if he told him that an angel had appeared and had given Mike instructions—so he kept quiet.

  “I have a private journey to take,” he told John. “It’s meaningful for me.” And he left it at that.

  Mike gave notice at his apartment and packed his things. He carefully separated his very personal belongings from his clothing and appliances. He didn’t have much, but the things he cherished the most—the photos and the few books—he packed into two special cases. Mike realized that he could not take many clothes, so he packed the bare minimum for a very light journey, which also fit in the cases along with the photos and books.

  Mike invited his neighbor over—the one who had saved him—and gave the man some clothes, his television set, the bike he used to pedal to work, and various other meager belongings that he had accumulated over the past year or so.

  “If you don’t want these,” Mike had said, “then give them to charity.”

  The neighbor seemed overwhelmed by the gesture, and he smiled broadly while pumping Mike’s hand. Mike got the impression that the man had indeed needed much of what was offered. “Cat” the fish had been saved by the neighbor after calling 911, and it only seemed fit ting that it should also go to him, seeing as how it was now in the man’s aquarium anyway.

  “Good-bye, Cat!” Mike had said with a smile, while in the man’s apartment. “Keep the faith.” Cat didn’t even look at him. He was busy with his new fish friends.

  It was the fifth day after Mike returned home from the hospital that he realized that he was approaching the end of his preparations. He didn’t know exactly how to proceed, and he didn’t know where precisely where he was going. It was evening and all was quiet. He knew that the angel would be aware when he was ready and that tomorrow would be the start of something new. Mike felt that the reality of his journey was absolute. He “owned” the belief that he would be shown what to do. Everything that had happened in the last week justified the logic of his faith. Mike decided to review the precious belongings in the cases he was hauling along his spiritual trek.

  He opened them and painstakingly examined the items that he felt needed to be taken along. The first group of items consisted of the photos. The photo album was fairly tattered with time, and many of the aged pictures had been originally attached with the old-fashioned gummed corner mounts from the ’50s. He opened the book carefully so as not to disturb the weaker mounts, and once again he felt the familiar feeling of melancholy when he gazed upon the wedding photo of his parents—the first photo in the book. He had found this and other personal photos of them after the accident, and he’d barely had the strength to look on them back then.

  There they were—very much in love—smiling at the camera—beginning their lives together. Their clothes looked funny to Mike, and it’s the only time he remembered seeing his dad in a tie. Later Mike found Mom’s old wedding dress in the attic. He had asked a neighbor to pack it for him, since it was too painful. Mike was just a glimmer in their eye when the photo was taken, and their future was filled with expectation of good things. Mike stared at the photo for a very long time, finally speaking softly to it:

  “Mom and Dad, I am your only child. I hope what I am about to do will not disappoint you in any way. I love both of you and wish to see you soon.”

  Precious moments went by as Mike turned the pages of the book that contained the lineage of his boyhood. He smiled often. There was the old farm, the occasional pictures of his friends along the way. He loved the photo of himself on the tractor when he was six. What a treasure this album was! Mike felt that God would be happy to have him honor his parents and his upbringing by taking the photos on this special trip. What would eventually become of the album was unknown, but for now Mike felt that he could not leave these items behind.

  Then, there were his books. He loved them! His Bible was worn thin with many readings, and it had comforted him so many times. Even if he didn’t understand all of it, he felt its spiritual energy. It was carefully packed, and Mike could never leave it behind. Then, there were his boyhood books that meant so much—The Hardy Boys, Charlotte’s Web. These were just a few paperbacks that he continued to read periodically, each time remembering what he was doing at the age he first experienced those great stories and characters. Finally, the great adventure of Moby Dick when he got older, and the Sherlock Homes series; and then some of his favorite poetry by obscure writers.

  All the books and the photos fit nicely into two satchels, and they could be carried easily, allowing him to also carry a medium-sized sack that could hold a snack or two. Mike felt he was ready, so he lay down on the floor of his now bare apartment for the final time. He had a pillow, and that was enough. He was ready for the next day, and the excitement of starting his spiritual quest made sleep almost impossible as he turned over in his mind the things that had happened, and the promise of things yet to come. Tomorrow would be the beginning of his journey home.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The First House

  The next morning dawned a bit dreary, but Mike’s spirits were high. With some meager funds that he had saved, Michael purchased a large breakfast, which he ate on the patio of a local bistro. It felt odd to be outside at this time of day. Normally, he was working by now, used to toiling all day, eating a sack lunch at his desk, and having the sun go down out of his eyesight while he was still in the confines of the building.

  With satchels in hand, and the bag over his shoulder, Mike stood outside the diner wondering exactly which way to go. He knew that he could not head west, since the ocean would soon intervene. East it was, then, until he was shown another route. Appropriately, Mike felt pretty good about beginning a trip built on faith, but he still wished he had a more clear destination.

  If only I had some sense of direction— a map, perhaps, or an indication of my current position, Mike said to himself as he plodded eastward, passing very slowly through the suburbs of Los Angeles toward the foothills of yet another endless neighborhood. It’s going to take weeks to walk out of here, thought Mike.

  Mike didn’t really know where he was going, but he just kept heading east. At lunchtime he sat down on a curb and consumed the leftovers he had saved from breakfast, and again wondered if he was on the right path.

  “If you’re there, I need you now!” said Mike out loud to the sky. “Where is the gate to the path?”

  “A current map it shall be!” Mike heard a familiar voice speaking in his ear. He stood up and looked around but saw no one. He recognized the voice of the original angel.

  “Did I hear that, or feel it?” muttered Mike under his breath with a sense of relief. At least there was some communication!

  “What took you so long?” asked Mike with some humor.

  “You only asked for help a moment ago,” replied the voice.

  “But I’ve been wand
ering for hours!”

  “That’s your choice,” stated the voice. “What took you so long to verbalize YOUR request to us?” The voice was obviously having fun, turning Mike’s objection back at him.

  “You mean that I only get help when I ask?”

  “Yes. What a concept!” replied the voice. “You are a free spirit, honored and powerful and able to make your own way if that’s your choice. It’s what you have been doing all your life. We are always here, but only active when you ask. Is that so odd?” Mike was momentarily irritated by the absolute logic of the angel’s words.

  “Okay, where do I go? It’s past noon, and I feel that I have been guessing all morning about which direction to walk.”

  “Good guessing,” replied the voice, with an implied wink. “The gate to the path is just ahead.”

  “You mean I was headed for it all along?”

  “Don’t be so shocked that you went right to it. You are a piece of the whole, Michael Thomas of Pure Intent. With practice, your intuition will serve you well. I am here today only to help steer you in small ways.” The voice hesitated. “Look ahead, you’re already at the gate!”

  Michael stood in front of a large hedge that led into a canyon between rows of houses.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Look again, Michael Thomas.”

  Mike stared at the bush and slowly realized that there was an outline of a gate. It had been hidden by the fact that it blended in, and looked like part of the overall structure of the plant. Now it seemed that he couldn’t NOT see the gate even if he wanted to. It was so obvious! He turned away for a moment, then looked at it again with a new perception. There it was, now even clearer than it was a moment ago.

  “What is happening?” asked Mike, aware that his perception was changing.

  “When unseen things become obvious,” the gentle voice said, “you can’t go backwards into ignorance. You will now see all gates clearly, since you gave intent for this one.”

  Although Mike didn’t fully understand the significance of what was being given him, he was all too ready to move onto the main path of his journey. The hedge stopped resembling a gate and actually became one! Right before Mike’s eyes it was changing and growing in its definition.

  “This is a miracle!” whispered Mike as he continued to watch the tall hedge transform into a tangible gate. He even backed up slightly to allow room for the phenomenon to occur.

  “Not really,” replied the voice. “Your spiritual intent just shifted YOU slightly, and the items that vibrate at your new level simply have snapped into view—no miracle. It’s just the way it works.”

  “You mean my consciousness can change reality?” questioned Mike.

  “Semantics,” replied the voice. “Reality is the essence of God and is constant. Your human consciousness only reveals the new parts of it you wish to experience. As you change, more of it comes into view, and you may experience and use the many new revelations as you wish, but you cannot go backwards.”

  Mike was beginning to understand, but he had an additional question before he started down the path through the newly exposed gate before him. He was always ready to test everything for truth—even the angelic voice he was hearing in his mind. Mike formed his question and stated it.

  “You said I was a creature of free choice. Why can’t I go backwards if I choose to? What if I want to ignore the new reality and return to a simpler one? Isn’t that free choice?”

  “It is the physics of spirituality that creates an axiom that states you will never be able to return to a less-aware state,” replied the voice. “If you actively choose to try, however, then you are denying the enlightenment you have been given, and you will become unbalanced. Indeed, you are able to try to move backwards. It is your free will. However, sad indeed are those humans who try to ignore what they know is truth, for they will not last long with a dual vibratory rate.”

  Mike did not understand all the new spiritual information that the voice was imparting to him. He did receive the answer, however, to his question. He knew he could turn around right now and go back to the city. It was his choice. But every time he stood here he would see the gate, and knowing it was there, but ignoring it, would make him unbalanced and no doubt sick. Somehow it all made sense, and it was his desire to move forward, not backward—so Mike picked up his satchels and bag and moved forward through the gate, onto the path that was the beginning of his journey. It was a plain dirt path, like any other in any canyon. Mike was excited and moved right on, quickly leaving the gate behind.

  Mike had just gone through the gate when a dark, shadowy greenish figure also slipped through. The shrubbery wilted where IT walked, and had Michael not moved on, the stench would have alerted him to ITs presence. IT quickly took up position behind Michael Thomas, staying just out of sight but keeping up with him in his exuberance. Like a swift and cunning phantom, IT shadowed Mike’s excitement and his glee with an equal amount of hatred and dark purpose. Mike had no idea that IT was there.

  Shortly after setting off on the path, the scenery, even the feeling of the land changed greatly for Michael Thomas. Nowhere could he see the sprawling city of Los Angeles or the myriad suburban homes. In fact, there was no hint of civilization—no telephone poles, no airplanes, and no freeways. He had eagerly embarked upon the new dirt path before him like a kid opening gifts at Christmas—plowing ahead without really thinking—and now he realized that with each step he was going deeper into another world. This journey was taking him into a reality that was far removed indeed from the one he had just experienced. Mike wondered if he was now in some kind of place between earth and heaven where he might start his spiritual schooling—something he assumed would be taking place soon to prepare him for the honor of going home. The trail-like path had slowly become wider, and now was almost the width of a road. It was about three to four feet wide, without footprints of any kind, and very easy to follow.

  Mike turned around suddenly. What was that? Something dark green and quick caught his eye as it darted to the left behind a boulder. Must be the wildlife, Mike thought. The road behind was now a mirror image of where he was heading—a long path that twisted and turned, disappearing over hill after hill in the distance, all within a gloriously lush countryside of green trees, meadows, and rocky outcrops. Flowers dotted the landscape like so many blips of color precisely in the right places on the perfect canvas of nature.

  Mike stopped to rest. He didn’t have a watch, but by looking at the sun’s position he estimated that it was about 2:00 P.M.—time for food. Mike sat down next to the road and ate the final crumbs from the large breakfast that he had partially hoarded for his last two snacks. He looked around and felt the stillness.

  No birds, he thought. He looked even closer at the dirt at his feet. No insects, either. This really is a strange place. Mike contemplated it all. He felt the sudden breeze in his hair. At least there is air! He looked up at the sky and saw the pure blue of a refreshing, grand day.

  Mike realized that there were no more snacks in his bag, but he also knew that he was not alone and that he would be afforded sustenance from God somehow. He remembered the stories about Moses in the desert, roaming for 40 years with the tribes of Israel. He remembered how those nomads were fed from the sky, and he mused at this story, wondering if it was true. All those families following Moses probably had headstrong teenagers just like we do today, he thought. He could just see them turning to their parents, complaining, “Hey! We’ve been by this same rock eight times since I was a kid! Why are you trusting that guy, Moses? He’s taking us in circles! The desert just isn’t that big! Hello?”

  Mike laughed as he thought about it all, then wondered if he was going to see the same rock shortly, indicating that he also was going in circles! He had no idea where he was going, either, just like the Israelites in the desert—and without food, too! This made him laugh even harder at the similarities.

  Perhaps the laughter was honored, or it was simpl
y time, but around the next bend in the widening dirt road Mike saw it. It was the first house—and it was bright blue! Good grief, Mike thought. If Frank Lloyd Wright could see this, he would scream! Mike inwardly chuckled to himself. I hope this is not irreverent, he thought, but I’ve never seen a blue house before. The path actually led up to its door, so he knew that it was supposed to be his first stop. It was also obvious in that there were no other structures anywhere.

  As Mike approached the small cottage, he could see that it was more of a cobalt blue, and it softly glowed from within somehow. As he turned to go up the path to the door, Mike saw a small sign that identified the house as the “HOUSE OF MAPS.” Mike realized that this is what he had asked for! Now he was getting somewhere. Perhaps the rest of the journey would not be so filled with uncertainty. A current local map would be a valuable commodity in this strange land.

  The door to the house opened suddenly, and out strolled a beautiful large blue creature that exactly matched the color of the house! It was obviously an angelic entity, for like the original angel in the vision, it was larger than life—bigger than a human. Its presence filled the air with a feeling of splendor and a flowery essence. Again, Michael could actually smell the fragrance of the entity! The large blue one faced him.