In a world full of sleek videos and consciousness teachings downloadable with one tap, I still find what I want to say is best told through a story. This story may appear to be about me and about Morya, but I assure you - it was written just for you. With love." ~ Sarah
The following is from notes I am writing for a new book called Sarah speaks.
As most of you are aware, Ascended Master Morya - a longtime companion of mine - was the ascended counterpart to my incarnation here on Earth. A sponsor, if you will.
Soon enough there will be more ascended masters on Earth than in the Ascended Masters Club, but that’s another story for another time.
Morya reminded me of who I was prior to me finding any sort of group or teaching in the physical world. His school had no books. It had no language but that of love, dreams and remembrance for the human vessel.
To me a teacher is an equal, or even more neutral than that. In your language, hierarchy is an illusion. When the mind goes beyond a dualistic construct, we are all just walking each other home.
The teacher is not someone who knows more, and the student is not someone who sucks that knowledge through a straw - for there is always a part of us hovering beneath the branches of the majestic banyan tree.
What I am saying is that: who each of us truly is - is that which is prior to consciousness.
The teacher comes in at varying stages of awareness to open up potentials, possibilities, probabilities and passageways for the Return to that Self.
The student is simply energy returning home to their inimitable consciousness.
Teachers show you where to look; not what to see.
I, Sarah, am both - always able to play a role in the etheric realms - illuminating paths to God, if you will. And 'my' energy is forever a learner of SELF on the other side of the Wall of Fire.
The love between teacher (consciousness) & student (energy) is truly what brings them together in the Christ Consciousness or New Energy.
Now that we have cleared that up in the dual mind, I want to walk you through something new.
The further of the back story is that in February/March 2020 - right before the world turned upside down or the wheel of change began to turn without anyone actually touching it - Morya was with me on a trip to India.
So-See-Hooooooon - or the DNA swirl of dragon clarity and humility, defined here as the human (energy) bowing at the feet of the God, also (consciousness) over and over and over again - had been with me for some years.
In this trip I did not plan - but simply told a travel agent to take me to Rajasthan – I found myself touring places where I had once lived. I could say where I lived long ago. I could say from previous lifetimes.
Yet, here I was too far beyond self-realization to have those mind experiences delineated in past, present and future. These energetic imprints were happening in the simultaneous now.
A modern woman with a suitcase on wheels, was also a one of six wives of a ruler of India.
She was forced to burn herself alive when another husband – a Rajput warrior was killed in battle – a tradition that ensured another man could not take the wife of the fallen too.
The realities ran parallel – simultaneously.
And because the dragon clarity had adjusted my vision so strongly, I did not feel any pain by them.
Simply energetic imprints.
Morya, who had first appeared to me in his white master robe; later a Rajput prince on his Arabian, riding away from his karma; and as a black-cloaked magi just several months prior to the Return to Self, he was here again, this time looking more human than ever.
In the space between the swirling timelines and palaces and lineage and doctrines, he showed up to me in jeans and a green t-shirt.
We were the same no-age in the same no-place at the same no-time.
“Sarah, can you forgive me?”
I was startled by the question. It took me a minute to realize what he meant by the question.
He meant for all the harm he had caused me in every lifetime in which we played the same role of husband and wife over and over and over and over again. And again. And just one more time in case we didn’t destroy each other enough.
“Of course, I can.”
I said it, and I meant it.
Tears rolled from his eyes. I could see that he had not forgiven himself.
And I opened a very large wooden door with an ornate brass handle to let in the light of forgiveness.
And so, he allowed it, tears streaming down his face.
As it happened, I saw how hard he had been on himself.
Just like each of you reading this are on yourselves.
“All is forgiven and there is nothing to forgive,” I say not him or anyone else but just so it's on record.
Simultaneously, I see our roles reversed.
He is a young man in his 20s. He is standing in the garden of his family’s royal home in Rajasthan. He is choosing what you all call self-realization, and it is beginning to sink in how much he must give up – the real illusion of it. The swallowing of the pride. The false connections. The marriage to time and space.
He comes to this garden often to clear his mind.
I see that I, Sarah, am the ascended counterpart for his incarnation on Earth and what he came to do – in his “last lifetime” – I am always with him in the garden, but he cannot always see, feel or hear me.
One day he yells to me, crying out in pain, “Where are you? Why aren’t you here?”
I say to him, “I am here.”
"You are too upset to hear me but I am here."
I realize how we set this up for one another.
One ascended and one embodied.
One embodied and another ascended.
Unable to destroy one another.
I see myself crying on the bathroom floor in linear year 2014.
“Where are you?” I scream to him.
He says to me, “I am right here.”
But I cannot yet hear him.
Lauren Hutton (Sarah) writes adventure novels and short stories about the self-realization experience and beyond. She fancies herself a humanizing divinity journalist and shares her work here with the Magus Kuthumi.