CHAPTER 3—THE AGREEMENT OF THE FOUR KEEPERS

Three near death experiences activated the Healer Archetype. In this context, near death cannot be understood in the conventional sense of a soul’s return from the Light at the End of the Tunnel. There was no return. The Agreement of the Four Keepers prearranged the details. The departing driver of the vehicle went right through the Tunnel as the subsequent driver took possession and quickly revived the body, which was near death but not actually dead. Once the vital signs stabilized, the intense focus, which was needed to keep the flame of life from flickering out, gradually relaxed. Then the amnesia set in, just as it does for most humans after the normal birth process. Neither method of entry is trauma-free, and amnesia is Nature’s anesthesia.

Amnesia is a curious phenomenon. While I vividly recall Jan Gillett’s experiences—even her birth and many of her past lives are viscerally available—my sense of self prior to Walk-In exists in a pre-physical state devoid of language and form where time and memory have no validity. In Qabalistic lore, this formless state is Briah, the realm of the archangels which is characterized by wisdom and intuitive understanding.

As the first emanation from Source, Briah is known as the World of Creation. Not to be confused with manifest reality, the World of Creation is not a place, and certainly not a planet, but a realm of pure thought where the polarities of positive and negative charge have their origin. Briah is where the Agreement of the Four Keepers took place.

You may wonder how, in this premanifest realm where there is thought but no language, did four entities agree to restore the sanctity of sex on Earth?

This is a very good question.

The World of Creation is where the pure template of the male/female polarity exists. Having experienced the corrupted template through previous Earth incarnations, the Four Keepers went into the uncorrupted template to charge themselves with the pure vibration so they could anchor it on Earth. In this state, they wisely understood that grounding the pure template had only to do with love and nothing to do with the rules and regulations that humans make and break ad nauseum as they’ve done for countless millennia.

Amnesia took us, in turn, as we entered the temple, and one by one, we awoke. Fortunately, we’re not alone in this endeavor.

Continue to the next chapter

CHAPTER 2—NICOLE

Before unfolding more of the story, I need to acknowledge Nicole Pigeault. During the interval between my assumption of this physical vehicle that was still known as Jan Gillett, and the biopsy that would soon confirm the dire prognosis, Nicole performed a healing ceremony for me.

Together, she and I worked with a small group of spiritual aspirants in a huge metaphysical emporium in our nation’s capital where we were surrounded by a collection of rare crystals and gemstones that was, according to our customers, more impressive than the nearby array at the famous Smithsonian. The environment was like a hothouse that provided direct experience of the properties described in the countless crystal books lining the shelves of the store, but Nicole had arrived with prior knowledge. She was, without a doubt, the master healer among us, and she allowed vivid past life memories to inform her decisions as she borrowed the needed items from our display cases. Then, along with her helpers from the mineral kingdom, she assembled our small group for the ceremony in which she guided us back to ancient Egypt where she unlocked memories of our connections not only to each other but to the owner of the store who was our spiritual teacher.

Nicole’s magic produced profound effects. The disappearance of the cancer was obvious, but I kept my awakened awareness of being a walk-in undercover. Books on the subject were at my fingertips in the store, but I had no interest in reading them, and despite being surrounded by people who wouldn’t judge me, I told no one.

Why? Continuity of soul purpose had flowed without interruption, so exploration of the phenomenon had seemed irrelevant—almost like a distraction—until I recently listened to an interview that gave me a new perspective and compelled me, thirty years after the fact, to share with Nicole the awakening that had been the result of her powerful healing ceremony. But we didn't get to unravel the story because the time had come for her to let go.

Nicole had accurately self-diagnosed her condition with advanced technology she used in her healing practice, but she hadn't seen a doctor. Medically uninsured, she'd been waiting for an investment to pay off and grant access to cutting edge treatments insurers don't cover.

Her illness came as a shock to everyone who had known her. There were clues. We knew she was suffering, but none of us dared to imagine our sweet angel with cancer. For a year, she'd kept the secret while generously dispensing healing energy during our daily chats until her femur broke under the weight of her body as she walked down her hallway and an ambulance ferried to the ER.

News of the fall was devastating. The demands of my path had stripped my finances bare, so I didn't have the means to fly to her bedside in Los Angeles, but all was instantly arranged by our spiritual sisters from the bookstore era, and together, we were blessed to witness miracles.

Taped to the wall facing Nicole's bed was a drawing of a baby wearing a crystal crown with the words "Auntie Angel is a Baby" scrawled on top. The artist was Jenna Dewan's five-year-old daughter Evie. Jenna said that when her marriage was going well, she and her husband would sometimes ask Evie if she'd like a baby brother or sister. Invariably, the answer was an emphatic NO. But now that Jenna was in the throes of divorce, Evie had taken to announcing We're Having A Baby! Jenna explained that they couldn't have a baby now. She had to fall in love first. Evie insisted, Well, you'd better hurry up and fall in love because we're having a baby!

A healer Nicole had summoned just prior to the fall had shared a dream in which Nicole had passed and quickly reincarnated as Jenna's baby.

Upon hearing the dream, Jenna assured Nicole that she would be a very good mother. Nicole had already arranged for Jenna to have her favorite crystals and magical toys, and if the dream comes true, she'll be returning to all of her favorite things, just like the Little Buddha.

Once Nicole had chosen the End of Life Option, it was necessary to find a place for her transition because the option cannot be legally exercised in a medical facility. Her apartment on the third floor of a building without an elevator was out of the question, and the homes of family members and friends had similar accessibility issues. A few phone calls were made, and a woman who'd been instrumental in passing the legislation arranged a nearby home.

Days before the appointed time, I returned home to my partner who was also experiencing health issues. Though he and Nicole had never met, they often chatted on the phone, which I kept on speaker during our calls. They adored each other. Deeply affected by her impending transition, Mike shockingly exploded in a fit of psychotic rage. At four o'clock the next morning Nicole called to ask what was going on with me. I told her I couldn't think of burdening her with my problems. She insisted, Come on, you can tell me. Upon hearing what had happened, she said, I know. He was battling the devil.

She passed the following day. That night, she came to me in a dream and said, Tell Mike that I'm safe now. The devil had come for me, but Mike fought him off. He's truly a brave warrior!

Her words penetrated his soul like a healing balm, and he has enjoyed her frequent counsel while I've wallowed in sorrow. Finally, the taste of my tears has turned sweet, and she came around to say, Briah, it's time! Now I'm ready to hear the whole story!

CHAPTER 1, TWIN FLAMES

When I was still a toddler, obviously long before any conscious knowledge of sex, I experienced my first kundalini awakening while riding my tricycle which proved orgasmic and opened my third eye to visions of myself as a mermaid entwined with my male counterpart as we swam in warm freshwater pools open to the clear blue sky in a quartz canyon. Then I shapeshifted into a centaur galloping with wild abandon alongside my mate in a fragrant meadow surrounded by hills covered with lush tall pines. And finally, I was a princess, riding next to my prince in a glass-domed gilded carriage drawn by a team of magnificent white stallions across a drawbridge lined with cheering people as we approached a monolithic castle. The imagery always occurred in that exact order: mermaid to centaur to human.

Of course, I had no concept of an orgasm, and terms like kundalini and twin flame weren’t in my family’s lexicon. Nonetheless, I spent a great deal of time on my tricycle in a state of orgasmic bliss. This was obviously a solo experience. Still, it evoked a nearly unbearable longing for my romantic partner long before I understood what that was. Also, I was extremely shy, so I barely talked to boys, ensuring that puppy love was nowhere on the horizon, and even after I began dating, I remained for the most part in my imaginary kingdom. 

I married young. After eleven years, I divorced and entered into a series of ill-fated love affairs before taking a vow of celibacy. The promise of union with my twin flame seemed like an unattainable mirage, and the majority of my life has been spent in solitude, without a partner, and with no desire to date.

As the fourth keeper of this sacred living temple, I am also a guardian of the memories each predecessor stored in the DNA, along with the pre-existing ancestral data that infused me with love of family as I took up residence. The operation was seamless. I was, for all intents and purposes, the same person my family had always known, but there was an indefinable difference that I’m sure my sister noticed. Highly intuitive, she may well have been aware of each change of the guard, but it’s something we’ve never discussed because, thirty-plus years into my residency, I am still groping for words.

Beyond memory, there is a Field of Knowing which is devoid of all sensory perception. I can’t speak for other walk-ins, but I am very challenged by the task of articulating experiences that occur in this field because, unlike the astral plane, where the senses are fully engaged, the Field of Knowing is a void where knowledge is direct. There’s no light shining upon an object that reveals the truth and there’s no narrative to define it. We, the four keepers of the temple, met in this void where the planetary positions mathematically determined the precise time and place on earth where we could assist, and we agreed upon our terms of service.

So, Janell Ann Gillett was born, one month before her scheduled arrival, at the exact time and place that provided all the conditions the keepers needed to fulfill the promise made in the void, and three of us went about our business until our appointed times. My appointment began when Jan was forty-one. Two years later, I went to the DMV and changed the name on my driver’s license to Briah Jardin. The numerology adds up to 11:11.

Though I carry Jan’s memories, I do not have access to the memories of the other keepers except those they stored in her DNA. Please bear I mind, I am attempting to put into words an agreement that occurred without words, but I will do my best. We, the four keepers, each carry the vibratory signature of the number 9—The Hermit of the Tarot—which among other things portends endings. We came to finalize processes that were both personal and transpersonal, and Jan’s horoscope provided the means to that end for each of us. The North Node at 29 degrees Gemini in the eighth house and the South Node at 29 degrees Sagittarius in the third house were primary indicators of the work we would undertake.

Death and sexuality are eighth house affairs whereas communication is the primary characteristic of both Gemini and of the third house which, in this case, is dominated by the Sagittarian demand for Truth. Jan’s first brush with death occurred at the age of twelve with the onset of menstruation. The next encounter came during her first Saturn return when her sexual organs were surgically removed, and the third occurred when breast cancer metastasized in the lung—that's the segment I agreed to. This is but a broad outline that emphasizes the sex and death aspects that provided opportunities for us to walk-in, but the communication of Truth regarding sexuality defines the work. Aside from vibrating to The Hermit frequency, the four keepers carry the often-overlooked Truth that sex is sacred because it is the conduit of Life. Our mutual commitment to this Truth, and the memories we've created and stored, have made continuity as a single entity possible.

Now I have a partner. The vow of celibacy was renounced long ago, but with the exception of one relationship that lasted a year, the next twenty passed without so much as a date. Is my partner my twin flame? Here is my best answer to that question: my understanding of the twin flame phenomenon has changed dramatically over time, and though I won't say he isn't—at the very least he is my soul mateit's truer to say that I am my own twin flame. As I reflect back upon my infantile longings, I see that my tricycle rides unwittingly coaxed my male energy out of dormancy in short bursts. Since this experience always coincided with orgasm, I placed unrealistic expectations on sexual relationships to keep me in a constant state of awakened kundalini. I have only to look at my long periods of celibacy to realize the ridiculousness of my presumption because I frequently reach the desired state of consciousness all by myself through meditation. I am ever The Hermit.


Recently I discovered an amazing young clairvoyant on YouTube who has come to the same conclusion about twin flames. But she has so much more to say! Her name is Aluna Ash. I hope you'll click here to check out her channel.


Continue to the next chapter

Go back to the beginning

I AM A WALK-IN, by Briah Jardin

A booklet about sexual healing that draws upon the author's own personal experience to help young adults who are navigating their ascension journeys.


Introduction

I am the fourth keeper of this sacred living temple. The original keeper incarnated as Janell Ann Gillett. She vacated at the age of twelve during the onset of her first menstruation, which was traumatic because a closed hymen required surgical repair to release accumulated blood that had stagnated over several months and caused severe poisoning. Jan, as she was called, had just converted to Catholicism. I retain her memories. 

The second keeper took up the mantle of religious practice which was the primary focus of her life as she grew into adulthood, married and had children. She vacated the temple when faced with her husband’s infidelity shortly after a hysterectomy. At home with her children late at night while he was out with the other woman, she had decided to take the entire bottle of Vicodin she’d brought home from the hospital, but not until she knew he’d be there to care for the kids. Instead, she fell into a deep sleep and was awakened by her seven-year-old son’s blood-curdling screams, “Mom’s dead!” 

Startled, the third keeper of the temple looked up at the terrified child who continued screaming while he stared right through her as if she wasn’t even there, insisting that his mother was dead. He’d seen her blood pouring out, and her face had gone white. While his little hands patted his tear stained cheeks to emphasize the ghostly scene he had witnessed, her mission became clear. She would divorce the man lying in bed next to her, leave religion behind and immerse herself in the teachings of spiritual masters. Eventually, her longing for Divine Union brought her face to face with a flesh and blood teacher. Under his watch, she developed a huge cancerous tumor in the hilum of the left lung, snug against her heart, but it was pneumonia and pleurisy that drove her to the ER. In the hospital, several days passed while processes of elimination ruled out treatable conditions, and she left the body-temple before the scheduled biopsy, which would merely confirm the worst possible scenario. That’s when I walked in. 


A walk-in is a new-age concept of a person whose original soul has departed his or her body and has been replaced with a new, generally more advanced, soul.[1][2][3][4][5] Ruth Montgomery popularized the concept in her 1979 book, Strangers Among Us.[1][2][3][4][5]



Believers maintain that it is possible for the original soul of a human to leave a person's body and for another soul to "walk in". Souls are said to "walk-in" during a period of intense personal problems on the part of the departing soul, or during or because of an accident or trauma. The individual retains the memories of the original personality, but their personality and abilities change and become oriented towards helping humanity. Incarnating into a fully grown body allows the more advanced soul to carry out its mission without having to go through the two decades of maturation that humans need to reach adulthood.[6][1][5]

Happy New Year

I've been away from my blog since Nicole ascended in September, so I'm posting a new update for those of you who've been tracking my progress with the carcinomas. No photo this time because there's been very little change since the last one you saw. Due to intervening circumstances, Mike and I haven't had time to attend to treatment as aggressively as before, but the state we've achieved is holding steady. As of January 1st, I've acquired a new Medicare provider. From what I can tell, doctor visits will cost less but the deductible on prescriptions takes my breath away. Previously, there was no deductible. Not yet sure whether the new provider will cover the drug my doctor had originally prescribed - it was denied by the previous provider - but I'm not sure I'd take it in any case because I remain on the fence about taking prescriptions. We'll see what happens once I find a new dermatologist. I'll keep you informed.

My Basal Cell Carcinoma

In the near future, I'll be posting on a topic previously shared only with Nicole: My Experience as a Walk-In.

Stay tuned.

Archangel Nicole

Below this transformational image is a poem that could have been written for my dearest friend, Nicole Pigeault, who left her mortal coil on September 6, 2018. After a very private battle with cancer, she chose the Right to Die and commenced her departure with courage and grace that afternoon at 3:33. During her final days, she held court like the Queen of Angels enthroned in her hospital bed, dispensing healing love to everyone who entered her room. Truly, she was too good for this world. We who knew her are forever blessed. I miss her so much.




She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go. She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

~Rev. Safire Rose


Ms. Toad's Wild Ride through Cancer and Beyond

In recent years my techno-brain has atrophied from disuse, but I've recently figured out how to upload my book to my blog - it feels like a big deal! - and I've been told it's a fast, fun, easy read. Please Click on the Link below and enjoy!