Attention Light Workers:
It is a supreme pleasure and an honor to be in your presence during this first Awakening Age. We will perform our duties to the highest of order. The history of Humanity will never be the same. “It began in the first quarter of the 21st century.” This will be the statement of history thousands of years from now. We are here. Let us represent the illustrious light that is our very essence.
–This volume was transcribed from the memory database of Source and the memory files of those entangled as One, cataloged in a singular lifetime of various human and light-being entities. These are their memories.
–The story you are about to read was transcribed from the SOLID STATE CRYSTAL MEMORY (SSCM) files of Elleria Eisen and Eckhart Namhel’s last Earth-Life experience and those entangled in memory with them. The journeys of the Federation of Light will continue. We will hand down the volumes as we transcribe the Memory Light Files and document the Ascension Federation from the beginning. We look forward to compiling the records throughout the Universe and delivering the stories.
This volume approved by Eckhart Namhel
Date: 04-15-2011 CE – Earth Time. Signed: Eckhart Namhel
Captain, Delta Light Ship EM III – M42 – Ascension Post Earth
☬ May Source be with Us – One – M42 ☬
The purple pastel sky of Syringa washes through the windows of a country ranch house. Through the open, kitchen window, the housemother looks out to a stretching lilac garden, which soaks in a soft pink source from above, warmth enveloping the atmosphere. She had finished preparing her daily meal, and now washes the crystal dishes in the sweetness of flowered water while she stands in her long, flowered apron, stained with lavender smudges of fingerprints. Behind her, eight-year-old Ellie sits at the wooden table in a skirt dress, humming a lilting tune under her breath through a close-mouthed smile. A fork rocks between her fingers as she taps her plate, tilting her head to the right, then left, in time with the song dancing in her head. The housemother rubs a dish, dips her flower-stained hands … then looks out the window at a young, thin and healthy Eckhart the explorer. He is kneeling on the outer, whitewashed wooden porch, his bare knees showing a hint of pink chafing while they support his ten-year-old mission. He peers through a high-powered telescope, brown hair falling over his forehead.
The housemother, wiping her hands on a towel, turns to look at Ellie. “Eat your lilacs, Ellie,” she lovingly requests.
“But, Mom, I don’t want to,” Ellie’s sweet little voice says as she fiddles with the perfumed stack of violet fare. “They’re so pretty, I just can’t.”
“If you want to grow up to be pretty, then eat your lilacs.”
“I’m already pretty enough.” She tilts her head, regarding her plate. Eyelids flutter over twinkling blue gems while she picks a flower off her glass plate and brings it to her tiny nose with a gentle whiff, swinging her dainty legs above the wooden floor in amusement.
The housemother turns and requests out the window, “Ecky! Come eat please, it’s getting late!”
Eckhart takes his eyes off the telescope for a split second and looks back at the kitchen window, “Just a few more minutes, okay?” He turns back to the telescope to continue.
Peering through the lens, Eckhart whispers to himself, “This is the only time of day I can see Earth, between the first and second sun.” He pulls back from the telescope and sits on his ankles while he looks up with the naked eye. “Someday, I’m gonna enlist for an Earth mission, yeah, gonna be a captain … someday.” He sighs … while peering through the cotton-candy sky….
Two hundred and twelve years later, he is forty years into his third life, four decades of memory pulling his vision out the window as the sun wakes on the Denver horizon. You can force a man to the window, but you can’t make him think, Eckhart ponders with a grin, gazing at the floating particulates drifting on the filtered sunlight as he sits over his angled drafting table with one tooth-marked pencil between his teeth, another behind his ear. He knows he has earned his place on the 42nd floor–Eckhart Namhel, Luxury Design Architect: the proof stamped on his office door.
If it were not for his human colleagues, he would say his life is exemplary.
©Erik S. Lehman 2015