When I finished Jordan’s life review, I was led to a passageway of light. Other passageways branched out as intervals as I began to move, but they didn’t feel familiar. Hallways leading to city-size collections of soul families flashed by, and sometimes I had brief curiosity about where they led.
A passageway to my left, appearing exactly like the others, nonetheless had a familiar energy pattern. It was like a place on Earth that has a familiar, unmistakable smell. I turned. Now there were other souls going in the opposite direction. I knew I was close to home.
If you think of each soul as a point of light, the spirit world is a vast array of such lights. It has far more lights than the population of Earth because souls reincarnate to so many other planets and dimensions. And there are souls who have never incarnated, souls who have completed their incarnations, and souls who cluster to create, who are the source, who turn knowledge into energy and matter. You might think of the spirit world as a gigantic brain, with each cell (soul) located in a particular place and performing a particular function. This brain contains all of consciousness, all of thought, all that has been learned, all creativity, and all love. This brain, the spirit world, is collective consciousness, all that is.
I was now heading back to my region—my town and my family. And as I drew closer, the familiar energy and vibrational patterns were like the roof-lines and storefronts on Main Street of one’s hometown.
My soul group, the farm, appears to live in an old Victorian house. This isn’t a physical house, but energy we project, by agreement, to resemble a house. We create the image that is comforting to us—much the same as souls who incarnate as water creatures might project a quiet lake or bay.
They were all waiting for me, just outside the door, appearing as they looked in our most recent shared life. Eleven of them, and I make twelve. There was also a scattering of souls from nearby families; souls with whom I’ve experienced significant lives.
Each caressed me with a particular expression of love. Though my incarnation was expected to be short, I was held in a kind of group embrace to soothe the sudden loss of my Jordan life. They were telling me it was a good life. A life well-lived. Each soul with a signature and unique energy, looked at me, saw the true nature of who I am, and offered a love that can only come from such knowledge. All the loneliness of my life on Earth was suddenly gone.
I was home. But all that I had loved and learned as Jordan was still alive in me.
Excerpted with permission by New Harbinger Publications, from The Luminous Landscape of the Afterlife ©2021.
Matthew McKay, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist, professor of psychology at the Wright Institute, cofounder of Haight Ashbury Psychological Services, founder of the Berkeley CBT Clinic, and cofounder of the Bay AreaTrauma Recovery Clinic, which serves low-income clients. The publisher of New Harbinger Publications, he has authored and coauthored more than 40 books, including The Relaxation and Stress Reduction Workbook and Seeking Jordan.