The Truth about Guardian Angels (part 3)

This special bond between generations is better understood in other cultures than our own, especially among the Chinese. There the veneration of ancestors and the expectation that they can be called upon to help those living is taken for granted. Here, in the West, we have lost this feeling. If we are not outright atheists, we tend to believe that if the souls of the dead exist at all, they are distantly removed from us in a heavenly zone with which we have no connection. I no longer believe this to be the case. Our ancestors, especially those who are not that distantly related in time, take an active interest in our affairs and seek to help us where they can and when permitted. In this they are our primary spirit guides, no so much angels as companions on the way. For them our lives provide an opportunity to progress through service while for us we need all the help we can get. It is a win-win situation that is barely hinted at by the term ‘guardian angel’ but I do vbelieve this is the reality. Now I have told you about my ‘Persian’ guide who appeared to me in Denver and you may be thinking that guardian angels are all exotic beings from former times and ages. Well in my experience nothing could be further from the truth. So here is the story of how I identified a guide who I think has been with me since birth: my own grandfather.

As I have written in an earlier post, I was able to go all the way from Denver to Chicago with just one lift. It was remarkable and even at the time I was aware that my guides had a hand in setting this up. The two young guys who took me there had deliberately turned off the freeway to check if anyone was hitching on the desolate spot where I was standing. They left me in the centre of Chicago. There I tried to get directions to Racine, Wisconsin. It was the evening rush hour and I asked a news vendor the way. Whether he was hard of hearing or it was too noisy, although I repeated my request several times, he simply could not understand what I was saying. I could understand him perfectly but it seems that my English accent, which is not even a regional dialect, had him completely thrown!

Giving up on him, I started walking in a dirction I reckoned to be north till I found a place to put out a thumb. Almost immediately a concerned motorist stopped. “Really, you don’t want to be hitching here”, he said, “you’ll get yourself mugged or worse. Jump in and I’ll take you out to the suburbs where you’ll be a lot safer.” I thanked him and soon found myself somewhere on the northern fringes of the Windy City. He dropped me by a burger bar and it was here that I found a dollar bill at my feet and no one around to claim it. Grateful to the cosmic for sending this gift, I dined hungrily on a burger and chips.

By this time it was getting dark and I needed somewhere to sleep. Nearby was a church and I could hear people singing. I went inside and once the service was over, asked the pastor if he wouldn’t mind me pitching my tent on the small patch of grass in front of the church. He was OK with this and so was I. The next day I hitched a ride to Racine, intending to stay for a few days before heading back down to Chicago and then on to NY.

I stayed a few weeks and then my plans changed radically with the weather. Winter set in abruptly and the temperature plummeted, soon going down to -24ºC. It became a case of hunkering down until the winter turned into summer and the ice melted. Until then, Lake Michigan was frozen as far as the eye could see and any un-gloved hand was instant turned to ice too. There was no Spring worth mentioning, not like we have here in England. Summer came with an abruptness that I found quite startling. In the meantime Racine had an excellent library to study in. I also made many new friends, some of whom I am still in contact with.

It was during this time of short days and frozen cityscapes that my next guide appeared to me in a dream. He, however, was no stranger from another time and world but none other than my father’s father, my grandfather. Now I had never met him in person as he had passed over the year before I was born but I recognised him immediately from a picture we had at home. A smartly dressed city gent, he had been at his prime during the Edwardian era at the beginning of the 20th century. A self-made man who by today’s standards would have been classed as a multi-millionaire, he had made his money as an importer of sugar, copra (dried coconut used for the extraction of cocoanut oil) and, I think, tobacco. His fortune, alas, was lost (like so many others) during the Second World War. It closed off access to his suppliers and all but bankrupted his company. Nevertheless, as a boy living in the 1950s, I saw something of the after-glow of his enterprise: I grew up in a large house, which had been his, in a relatively wealthy London suburb.

In my dream my grandfather was not at all happy with me and most especially with my lack of organisation in my finances. He said he would help me sort this out but that I must start to behave more responsibly and stop drifting. It was time to stop running away from responsibility, he said. I needed to get a grip on my life.

My grandfather’s message was not really news to me. At some deeper level of my being I knew that my time of travels had to come to an end. For though I had toyed with the idea of trying to settle in the US—something which even then was quite hard for a foreigner like myself to do—I knew I needed to go home and sort things out there. What was strange was meeting someone in a dream who previously I had only known from one or two pictures. It was a bit like the movie ‘Night at the Museum’ where the exhibits come to life at night-time. I was talking to a man who looked just like the image in  his picture (above). That he should take an interest in me was not all that surprising for I am, after all, his only grandson and, as I have no sons myself, the last male of his lineage. Nevertheless I believe there is something more to our connection. I believe he has a special relationship with me that was probably agreed between us even before I was born. In this sense he is my human guardian and guide in a way he is not for my sisters.

This special bond between generations is better understood in other cultures than our own, especially among the Chinese. There the veneration of ancestors and the expectation that they can be called upon to help those living is taken for granted. Here, in the West, we have lost this feeling. If we are not outright atheists, we tend to believe that if the souls of the dead exist at all, they are distantly removed from us in a heavenly zone with which we have no connection. I no longer believe this to be the case. Our ancestors, especially those who are not that distantly related in time, take an active interest in our affairs and seek to help us where they can and when permitted. In this they are our primary spirit guides, no so much angels as companions on the way. For them our lives provide an opportunity to progress through service while for us we need all the help we can get. It is a win-win situation that is barely hinted at by the term ‘guardian angel’ but I do believe this is the reality.

So if you want to know who is your guide, look back along your family tree, at those who were dead before you were born, and see if you can recognise someone with whom you have a special affinity. It could just be that this long lost uncle, grandmother or even ancient ancestor is working with you today. They might even be your primary guardian angel.

(In the next article we will discuss networks of guides and how you can make the best use of their help to realise you dreams and destiny).https://invcol.com/