We Are Becoming: Souls Evolving

By Leah Light

If you have ever…

Loved and lost, and loved again;

coped with an impossible family member;

juggled marriage, children, career and a mortgage, while somehow trying to find time for yourself;

been embroiled in a lawsuit in which only the lawyers won;

battled the bulge and/or struggled with body image;

suffered the tragic loss of a loved one; or

become one of the sandwich generation, raising kids while caring for older parents;

this is a book you will want to read.

 

We Are Becoming...is the story of an ordinary woman who found she possessed extraordinary abilities.  Her journey encompasses the common milestones that many women experience.  However, her story is viewed through a “third eye” lens – as an intuitive who learns to own and develop her healing gifts.  This account of one woman’s spiritual quest is amusing, poignant and at the same time, illuminating.  May it empower you to discover your own gifts and, ultimately, to embrace the shining spirit that inhabits us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 11, 2007
• ISBN: 9781434302489

Leah Light

About the Author Leah Light is an intuitive and empath who shares her gifts through writings, groups and private sessions. For more than 30 years she has taught meditation and healing classes with concepts that bridge both spirituality and holistic medicine. As a Wedding Officiant and Minister, it is her privilege to help couples tie the knot. Currently, she also assists her husband in running their home-based B&B. Her favorite roles are Wife, Mom and Grandmother.

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© 2007 Leah Light. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 10/8/2007

ISBN: 978-1-4343-0248-9 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4343-0247-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4343-0248-9(ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2007902542

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to my wonderful friends. You are all gems and I’m very blessed that we’re sharing this earth journey together. I won’t mention you by name, for fear of leaving someone out. You know who you are and I am forever grateful to you all.

Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter One

Memories of the Soul

Chapter Two

A Green Lights Courtship

Chapter Three

The Alpha Female of the Pack

Chapter Four

Unraveling My Own Tangled Web

Chapter Five

What’s in a Label?

Chapter Six

Exactly What is an Aura?

Chapter Seven

Energy Anatomy and the Chakra System

Chapter Eight

Moving Energy Through Visualization

Chapter Nine

The White Hats

versus the Black Hats:

A Family Drama

Chapter Ten

Money is Not a Four Letter Word

Chapter Eleven

Religious Feardom

Chapter Twelve

Coming Out of the Closet

Chapter Thirteen

Endings

Chapter Fourteen

A Cold Dose of Reality

Chapter Fifteen

The Battle of the Bulge

Chapter Sixteen

The Sins of the Fathers

Chapter Seventeen

Buying Off the Gods

Chapter Eighteen

Taking Responsibility While Avoiding the Pitfalls

Chapter Nineteen

The Big Move

Chapter Twenty

Four-Legged Healers

Chapter Twenty One

The Walls That Came Tumbling Down

Chapter Twenty Two

Broken Promises

Chapter Twenty Three

The Ripple Effect

Chapter Twenty Four

Re-weaving the Pattern of my Life

Chapter Twenty Five

Coming Full Circle

Epilogue

Bibliography

Reference Material

About the Author

Introduction

How many of us find ourselves stuck in the ditch along the road to enlightenment? Or we come to the deepest chasm of our darkest fears, only to find that the bridge is out. Take heart; there is a part of us that knows the way home…

It is true that we live in confusing times, yet the human experience has always been so. Since the dawn of time there has been a quest within the human spirit for answers to the great mysteries and dilemmas that have beset our world. We have looked to the scientific community for order and reason. Its logic makes sense to the rational mind, though it does not warm the cockles of a lonely heart. Many of us have sought solace through material comforts, which do not provide comfort to the spirit. Organized religion has met the needs of some. However, for many of us, it does not quench our thirst for life’s deeper meaning and purpose. I believe that what humankind has always craved, is for reconnection with a lost part of us, a wiser self that I will refer to as the soul.

I have personally found mainstream thought rather limiting. It was a good foundation to build on, but lacked the freedom and growth for which I had always yearned. Since early adulthood, I have traveled along alternative back roads of spirituality. My studies took an Eastern turn, exploring belief in chakras and past-lives. Most intriguing to me were all things metaphysical—hypnosis, near death experiences, astrology, and psychic readings. These are commonly known as New Age beliefs. I resist the label of New Ager, witnessing Airy Fairy ungroundedness and naiveté among so many of them. Nevertheless, I explored mystical beliefs alongside my star-struck peers, as a way to discover and develop my own healing gifts.

Back in the early 90’s I completed a spiritual studies program through a local metaphysical group. (Little did I know that I would end up giving intuitive readings professionally!) One of the benefits of this program was to be ordained and thus legally authorized to perform weddings. As a public-speaking phobic, I remember thinking, "Yeah, like I’d ever want to do that!" Still, after completing the writing of this book in 2002, I overcame my fear and have since built a thriving wedding ministry. It was a natural step to use my abilities to help others.

The subject of this book is spiritual evolution. Consequently, I find that my work is likewise evolving. The new spirituality is shifting from its alternative/fringe beginnings, moving closer to mainstream thought. Mainstream thought, I would hope, is opening its mind, thus allowing integration of the two paths. Many of my wedding couples describe themselves as spiritual, not religious. This seems to be a growing trend everywhere. I believe we are undergoing a transformation from organized religion to a spirituality that is less restrictive and more deeply personal. When it comes to matters of the spirit, one size does not fit all.

While I do not pretend to have all the answers for everyone, I’m grateful to have found many of my own. It is my hope that in sharing the story of my life and what led me to become who I am, others will be inspired to find their own true paths, and ultimately, to discover their souls.

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Chapter One

Memories of the Soul

The scene before me was of an Asian mother with her baby tied into a makeshift backpack atop her shoulders. The baby, with round oriental face, looked to be about 10 months old. Suddenly a firebomb rained down from the sky, landing a fatal blow to the baby’s back. I saw a close-up of the child’s face: as it died, its eyes rolled all the way over to one side. I knew that the mother was safe; her baby’s body had shielded her from what would have been her own death.

I awoke with this vivid scene still playing in my mind, particularly the way the baby’s eyes had rolled sideways. What in God’s name could such a dream have meant? Stranger than the dream itself was the fact that I had no emotional response. Rather than being horrified for the child or mother, I was merely a dispassionate observer of the facts.

At the time the Vietnam War was in full swing. I was 16 years old and head-over-heels in love with the high school sweetheart who would later become my first husband. Although the dream stayed with me, and I occasionally pondered its meaning, it wasn’t fulfilled until four years later at the birth of my first child. Even then I didn’t understand the connection. Meanwhile, the six o’clock news played out the horror of daily tragedies occurring on the other side of the globe. Although upsetting to anyone, these events were particularly abhorrent to my family, who were all pacifists, beginning with my dad. It hadn’t earned him any Brownie Points being a Conscientious Objector during World War II. It hadn’t been easy, either, for my brothers to obtain CO status during a time when many of their peers were loudly protesting the war in Southeast Asia. Minister friends wrote letters attesting to our religious beliefs, and the FBI had gone over our family with a fine-tooth comb. Principle eventually won out over bureaucracy, although my oldest brother had compromised, agreeing to serve Uncle Sam’s Army as an unarmed medic. Luckily, his tour of duty took place in Germany rather than Vietnam.

Having a baby in itself would fulfill a lifelong dream for me. I’d always wanted children; I was born to be a mother. From the time I was old enough to walk, I’d packed my dolls and cats around, feeding and lovingly rocking them to sleep. My childhood just seemed like something I had to get through to be an adult. After high school when I began working at a bank, I was just marking time until I could marry and start a family. For some reason I’d secretly feared that I might be infertile, which would have broken my heart. On the fateful summer day at age 19 when I tested positive at Planned Parenthood, I felt more joy than worry — I was carrying living proof of my fertility inside me! Unfortunately, I also carried proof that I’d engaged in unmarried sex. It was strongly disapproved of yet in the 70’s, even more so by my straight-laced parents. They wouldn’t have enjoyed the wedding had they known the bride was three months along. Of course the secret was out soon enough. While excited over having a new grandchild, my mother was quite vague about the due date when she shared the news with her friends.

If my parents were embarrassed by my pregnancy, my young husband faced it with extreme reluctance. He had never wanted children in the first place. Apparently he felt his responsibility had ended by his doing the right thing: marrying me and giving the child a name. Otherwise, he did his best to ignore my growing belly. Don’t talk about it, was the unspoken rule hanging in the air of our little garage apartment. It was awkward to be making preparations and looking forward to the blessed event while having to pretend it wasn’t happening. Even though my husband was a wet blanket, I couldn’t help the thrill I felt inside. I’d been waiting my whole life to become a mother.

My son was born April 30, 1975, the day the U.S. pulled out of South Vietnam and it fell to the Communists. I had recorded this in the current events section of his baby book. In my room several hours after his birth, Adam and I were alone for the first time. While I studied his tiny face, he suddenly rolled his eyes clear over to one side. Puzzled, I immediately thought of my dream of the Asian baby. I suppose this could have frightened me, as the dream child had died. But my son was healthy and perfect. I had no explanation because reincarnation wasn’t part of my belief system at the time.

While I was overjoyed with our son, his father remained indifferent. I prayed that his heart would melt as Adam transformed from an infant to a tow-headed, chubby-cheeked toddler. But it never happened. I don’t know what we were doing together in the first place (well actually I do, now). The marriage survived a relocation out of state, but ended when Adam was 18 months old. It was a crushing loss for me that sparked a search for inner strength and answers. I found answers, and a good many more questions, in the metaphysical sections of bookstores. I read about reincarnation and the law of karma, which totally made sense to me. It explained so many inequities, why some people get such a fleeting shot at life, the Asian baby, for example; while others live full, long lives. Why some are blind or handicapped and others win triathlons. Why some celebrate 50th wedding anniversaries, and others have marriages like mine that are doomed from the start. These are the many and varied opportunities for the soul to learn.

I discovered books about the famous sleeping profit, Edgar Cayce. In addition to past-life readings, he also channeled medical readings for hundreds of people back in the ‘40s. His diagnoses of people he’d never met were astonishingly accurate, and the cures he recommended from his trance state, often miraculous.

During this period I began attending meetings at the home of a psychic who channeled her male spirit guide in question-and-answer group sessions. During these sessions her voice would deepen noticeably, and her speech patterns changed. A grandmother in her seventies, she seemed sincere. She also gave private readings based on astrology. All she needed was a name and birth date to go on, and she was able to pick up on things she would have no way of knowing. On the whole, I found her to be quite accurate.

My curiosity led me to another psychic for my first past-life reading. I found LaFaye to be charming and vivacious, but no-nonsense — she was not one to stroke your ego by telling you what famous person you might have been before. Instead, she would focus on whatever lifetime would help you better understand the current one, with respect to relationships in particular. She explained that the roles change so that your brother may have been your mother, a father, your son or daughter, and so on. This is because souls tend to reincarnate in groups and we often have lengthy past histories with present family members and other key individuals from lifetime to lifetime.

I asked LaFaye about one of my brothers. I was single at the time, considering buying a house with him, and wondering if this would work out. She advised against it. My brother and I had been together in Ireland a century or more ago, she said, and he had been my loving and doting father. I was his headstrong daughter and possessed a fiery temper that was out of control. LaFaye saw a scene of the former me in a rage, flinging small rocks against a bigger rock, and they were sparking and splitting with the force of my temper. My then-father was standing back, mystified by what to do with me.

I did follow LaFaye’s advice, so we will never know whether buying a house with my brother would have brought out my old Irish temper. Her impressions were compelling nonetheless. At an earlier point in my life I’d become hooked on romance novels, especially those set in 19th century Ireland. Also, my brother sometimes called me Scarlet, because I’d cock one eyebrow when perturbed, just like Scarlet O’Hara in Gone With the Wind. It was his favorite movie; he saw it seven times and then quit counting. I recall my brother (who, by the way, does not believe in past lives) remarking over a scene in the beginning, of Scarlet’s father, doting in Irish brogue over his beautiful but willful daughter. The mind may forget, but the soul remembers.

I have observed hints of this with my children. Evidently my soul remembered theirs from a prior time because I had this identical experience when each of them were born: I would find myself calling them by a different name than the one chosen months before. Each time, the name that popped into my head was not one I’d even considered. But it was so strong in my mind, I would have to struggle to remember the right name, or I should say, the current one. I’ve also seen evidence of soul memories in my children. When Adam was about nine and Katie, two, he had recurring dreams of the two of them being chased by wolves. He’d help her climb a tree to get away, but the wolves would end up eating him. Or the same theme would play out with gun-packing robbers. Adam would save his sister from them, but end up getting shot himself.

I consulted LaFaye about this, and she said that my children had been brother and sister in France sometime in the 1700’s. They had been playing by the ocean when a large wave overtook Katie and swept her out to sea. Adam jumped in and saved her, but was caught by an undertow and drowned. LaFaye suggested I explain to Adam that he’d already had this experience and did not have to repeat it. For whatever reason this information helped, for the dreams did subside after that. Much later when I began studying into shamanism, another explanation surfaced. If we each have a power animal totem, I believe that Adam’s is the wolf. As a young child seeing them in his dreams, he did not understand their purpose and was frightened by them. It is also a fitting analogy for someone who may be fearful of his own power.

LaFaye’s reading about my children drowning in a prior life was further validated a short time later. I had allowed them to play in the bathtub together, and Adam took a bucket of water and dumped it upside down over his head. Katie responded by screaming in terror. Even though he laughed and assured her he was okay, she was visibly shaking with fear. Perhaps the sight of water rushing over his face jogged her soul’s memory. As an infant, Adam who had otherwise been calm and easygoing, had been very frightened when I bathed his head. Phobias such as fear of water may be traced to a previous trauma or death experience.

Past lives are remembered in the body. Some call this cellular memory. Past-life regression is one way of accessing those memories. I have been regressed under hypnosis and found the experience fascinating. It was as if I had two minds. While one mind replayed a scene and I felt emotion connected with it, the other mind was doubting the entire experience. Interestingly, the life I re-lived under hypnosis was of a man who died of dysentery aboard a ship while attempting to immigrate to the United States from Ireland in the 1840’s. It appears that I have more than one Irish connection.

Of course it’s impossible to scientifically prove the accuracy of past lives. So I look for my own validation: if it feels right, relates to a current event, or fits a known pattern, I am more likely to believe it. In the two glimpses of apparent past lives in my son — the Asian baby and the boy who drowned in France — both reflect a theme of self-sacrifice for a female family member. As I’ve watched him grow up, I’ve seen further evidence of his tendency to martyr himself or place greater importance on the needs of others. This is evidently on his soul’s learning to-do list.

In one sense it doesn’t really matter if reincarnation is true. That goes for any philosophy one accepts on faith. A more important question: Is it useful? Does it lead to understanding of one’s self or others, promote peace of mind, or lead to resolution of some kind? If so, then in my opinion, the benefits are much more important than the question of whether it is literally true.

There are two other past-life readings I’ve received which I feel are worth sharing. A psychic by the name of Maria once told me that I had been a man in the lifetime just prior, a soldier who was killed in the Korean War. She saw that I’d had a lot of heartache and losses in that life, that I didn’t want to fight in combat, but had no choice. So I went to war with a death wish to end it all, and soon got my wish via a bullet in the chest. This rings true to me, as it fits my choice of being a woman for this life — a sure way avoid the draft (at least in my era); and also my being born into a family of pacifists. I think I may know where that bullet may have gone, as I was diagnosed at one time with a hiatal hernia, a possible leftover cellular memory of the previous trauma. Birthmarks can similarly reflect old wounds in the body. The former Soviet Premier Gorbachev, for example, probably took an axe in the head during a prior existence.

Another time Maria read me, she saw that my first husband and I had been married several centuries ago in India. I had been his barren wife. As he had wanted children, he had divorced me, and I had died a bitter old woman. No wonder I feared infertility this time around. Just dating my ex-husband was enough to trigger soul memory!

What kind of karma is that? I told Maria, "First he divorces me for not giving him a child; then he divorces me again because I give him one. I was bitter, all right. Where was the justice in that? Then one day it hit me. It may have taken centuries, but I finally got the message: my soul’s lesson both times was forgiveness. I didn’t forgive him back in India and now I was being given another chance. So much for the traditional eye for an eye" concept of karma. That never resonated for me, anyway, it’s too tidy and mechanical — persecutor, then victim; crime followed by punishment. Human behavior is just not that organized. I take a broader view of karma. It’s simply learning, in whatever form it takes. The role of victim is not any loftier than that of perpetrator. The soul needs to have some of both polarities to fully understand the human experience. Judgments or punishments are self-imposed. Some souls punish themselves endlessly for relatively minor indiscretions. Others seem to have no sensitivity or comprehension of how their actions impact others. The only way out of the whole quagmire seems to be a combination of forgiveness and increased awareness.

That’s what I try to focus on when I do readings for people. Some want fortune-telling and while it’s possible to pick up on future trends, I try to stay away from that. For one thing, people have choice and if they choose a different path than the one I predict, it makes me look bad! More importantly, it’s missing the point. We create situations that give us opportunities to learn, and if the learning isn’t achieved, then the lesson gets repeated in some way. I’d much rather help a person see why she creates certain situations in his life. If she gets the message, then she is free to graduate on to bigger and better things.

Of course, one must be willing to accept personal responsibility for one’s own creations — not always a popular concept. At some point, however, a person should grow weary of that endless web of seeing the same patterns repeat over and over again. When he begins to recognize that he is the weaver of the web that ensnares him, that is when he is ready to heal himself.

Chapter Two

A Green Lights Courtship

At age 22 I found myself in the same boat as many other women. Divorced and living several hundred miles away from the rest of my family, the sole responsibility of caring for my two-year-old son weighed heavily on my shoulders. It was in some ways a blessing that my ex had no wish to be a parent. There were no custody or visitation hassles, and no interference in our lives. I also had no help, except for modest monthly child support payments. My job as office clerk barely covered expenses, and, adding to the burden were mortgage payments for the big house we’d purchased just before the marriage ended. I was awarded the house. But there wasn’t enough equity to pay a realtor’s commission if I were to sell it.

Although I managed to survive from one month to the next, I could see but one long-term solution to my problems: find another husband. That’s what women were supposed to do, Get the Guy and do our best to keep him. That, and have babies. My definition of womanhood at the time was shaped by preceding centuries of thought. Of course tradition wasn’t the only force that drove me to remarry. I craved connection and sharing and truly wanted more children. I had always idealized marriage. A happy family life was my heart’s greatest desire.

It was during this period of time that I learned about creative visualization. One exercise is to make a list of at least 25 items describing something you want to have in your life, in my case, an ideal mate. These are listed in present tense, as if you already have what you’re asking for. My list started out like this:

My new husband is:

1. Responsible.

2. Hardworking

3.Affectionate and loving

4.Able to accept Adam as his own child

5.Too kind hearted to care for hunting (has reverence for life)

While timeframes are optional, I added a deadline of meeting Mr. Right within a year of the date of my divorce. The next step was to energize the list each day by picturing having what I wanted and imagining the joy and happiness it would bring. This was easy; the longing was always right there in front of me. After a time, though, I put the list away in a drawer and forgot about it. I re-entered the dating game, kissing a few frogs along the way in search of my prince.

Although I was lonely, I had good friends who lived in the area, and a chatty brother who didn’t, but who evidently had money to burn on long distance calls. I learned more than I cared to know about the automotive business Russ had started with his friend, Dave. Russ also filled me in on more interesting things, such as the details of Dave’s personal life. Dave had married a woman with a young son. The marriage was difficult, partly because his wife, Candy, had a stormy disposition. She would frequently run home to mother after arguments and Dave didn’t know how to handle the situation.

Haven’t you ever considered leaving her? Russ had asked him, to which Dave replied:

Well, yes, but then what would happen to her boy?

This impressed me greatly, as my ex wanted nothing to do with his own son. Yet here was a man who was toughing out a difficult relationship for the sake of someone else’s child. It gave me hope that not all men are frogs.

The next phone call I got from home brought tragic news: Candy had suddenly died at the age of 29. To lose weight she’d gone on an unsafe liquid protein diet for the last six