I began channelling ‘Joseph’ late last night as I sat trying to find inspiration for my Daily Channel blog. I realised as I began sketching his portrait that the date and time almost all coincided, being the 12th of December 2012 – 12/12/12, the time was 11:45 pm almost midnight!
Despite the sketch not being complete, I thought I would take down what he was telling me. The subject of time is quite significant in his story, with the figures he mentions being multiples of twelve funnily enough. Also you can see the outlines of what appears to be a watch on his wrist. What this signifies is not yet clear to me, however such patterns are often clues to important realisations. His presence was very strong and immediate, and I could hear his deep voice loud and clear in my head, even though what he was telling me was a bit like an intermittent signal in that his statements seemed to be incomplete and unconnected to begin with. I was aware that he wasn’t addressing just me, but all who read his words henceforth. I think even if his words seem a little disjointed I hope at least that this entity’s energy and presence comes across and that you can discern for yourself what this means to you. The problem with channelling is that it isn’t verbatim, but a translation of a much larger intent and message in a way that can be made sense of in physical human terms. I’d be interested to share your thoughts.
A Letter From Joseph
There is a time for soft touches. There is a time for closure. Consider that time can only be your friend.
I’ll tell you who I am. I was the first born to twenty orphans. I was brought up in a hostel by the name of St.Michael’s and I lived until I was 73. But my age is inherently non-physical. I am 24, 38, 49 and just born. A day old. I am all of these ages and none.Where I reside is below your ordinary consciousness. The place you regard as your inner awareness. But I am not there. Not in the conventional physical sense of occupying space. I come through as you see me because of your own faculties to perceive me.
You come into my perception at a turning point in your life. You seek forgiveness for your previous misdeeds, but I know you. I know and recognise you from afar. Your name I once knew, your soul ever continual. I see you again now, different nose, different hair. Different clothes to wear; and the colour of your skin different. But I still know you.
Where I am is of no importance. What I convey to you is. You called me here today to ask yourself this:
‘Why have I come here to be part of this chance meeting? What brought me to these shores from afar so that I could ask myself this question?’
Was it chance?
No, not at all. My job inn this moment is to help you get along better with yourself.
I see what troubles you. I know you are tired. Your time to rest will come, but not now. Introspection requires your ability to commit to yourself.
What joyous things there are to come!
Commitment requires introspection. The ability to perceive your desired outcome with clarity and determination.
This never ends easily. There is often a back and forth motion of the entity from physical and non as it passes into a new phase of awareness. It should come as no surprise that life is just a long noodle in amongst a whole pot of even longer noodles! You can consume many at a time or choose to savour just one. The same logic applies to your circumstances right now. It is a matter of perception.
When I was 24 I began my naval training as a Sea Captain. It took me 25 days to become a fully qualified member of the Special Arms Unit, and 48 years to really understand what my training had been for. I was young when I became a naval officer. My rank was superior to that of many of the new recruits, even though our ages where not so different. My activities were dictated by precision and promptness. The code of conduct strict. There was no room for error. I was paid to do my job and in turn I gave up my freedom and my ability to walk away when things became tough. No room to manoeuvre, no room to flinch. My life was a regimented necessity. By the end of my career as a naval sea officer, my misdeeds weighed as heavily as my achievements. I was no hero, just a man paid to do a job in a war that was not of my creation. I could not turn back the clock and begin again. Choose not to enlist and follow my ambition to become a writer, maybe a physician, maybe a man of law. Truth be told I wasn’t very good at deciding who to be. My mother always told me that my head was full of too many ideas battling for a perch, like a flock of birds in a cage. My mother knew I was capable of great achievements but she complained that I lacked conviction. She was the reason that I enlisted.
My brain was a firecracker; firing in all directions; too fast to catch. I was intelligent. I had a creative mind. But I lacked the direction that my mother so wanted from me.
The day I enlisted I told her the news expecting, hoping, that she would be proud. Instead she said to me:
‘Joseph, don’t get killed.’ And that was all she said. I did not see her again for many years after.