Conversations with Michael
I never thought I'd be writing this for anyone to read: real life conversations with Archangel Michael. It started as a visitation (it always does), but it's okay, because I was quite used to them by then. And it's okay if you don't believe in angels - read this as fiction instead. Sometimes it's better that way in a crazy world where everything's topsy-turvy, and the lines between dimensions are starting to blur...
These are conversations written as parts. Begin with part 1.
Conversations with Michael copyright © 2020, Dianna Hardy. All rights reserved.
How do I even begin this … book? Will it be a book? I have no idea. I’ve not written anything like this before. But I have started the same way I would write a book, with my word document open and the copyright page already up, about to start ‘chapter one’ because that’s the only way I know how to do it. That’s the way I’ve done it for ten years now.
The chapters herein will probably be blog entries first and foremost. To understand what on earth I’m talking about, go to this post on my Facebook profile:
See? This was all triggered by an unexpected little visit that I received whilst trying to enjoy my chai tea.
So … trance channelling. If that’s what he wants me to write about, I have to rack my brain. I can barely remember the conversation. It was around June, 2019 … ah, okay, I have a thread … always start at the thread of a memory and the rest will unravel … here we go.
Oh, no, wait. Perhaps it would be best to tell you what Archangel Michael looks like first. Would that help? Would that make it easier for you to visualise the conversation? Hmmm … I see him as a giant orb of light, mostly. Cobalt blue light that throbs in a heartbeat-type fashion, but, occasionally, out of the corner of my eye (or behind my third eye), I see him as a very large, muscular man, with short, sandy-blond hair, not completely unlike Gwain from The Witching Pen series. In fact, he’s a cross between Gwain and (the fictional) Archangel Michael in that series – with blue-grey eyes. Which, of, course, see right through you. And he has a kind of weathered, handsome look. (Right – of course he’s handsome.) I suspect he appears that way because I already assigned that look to him in 2012 when I wrote The Demon Bride and it’s just easier for my mind to grasp onto if it needs a physical appearance. But I hope it will do for you as readers. I'll personify him as best as I can for you. Mostly, I just see him as light.
A Conversation about Trance Channelling
I’m aware I look a pillock. I feel like a pillock more. But, still, that’s just ego, right? Ego is the voice that tells you you’re daft, crazy, everyone’s going to laugh at you, and I have to get over that if I’m to do this properly.
I take in another breath, re-adjust my posture, let the breath out, and try to ease my mind on the flow of that exhale.
No one said it would be easy. But I’ve been quite inspired by watching others do it; taken in by the phenomenal amount of information that can be acquired with that kind of release, so I want to give it a go.
I grit my teeth and shut the ego-voice out. I can do this. I can.
I try to sense … anything as I release another breath. My mind feels a little more clear. If I can just…
There he is.
But he’s not inside my mind and my being, but appearing as he always does – a presence to my left: Archangel Michael. At least, it feels like him.
I open my eyes in a squint and look in his direction, even though I know I’ll only really see him in my mind’s eye.
He’s got an eyebrow raised, and he’s looking at me, bemused. “What are you doing?” His voice is as it always is. Deep and slightly throaty, with a hint of humour colouring its tone. He almost always sounds like that.
“You need to ask? You don’t know?” I know he knows. But I also know he likes the ‘humanness’ of conversation. This is an angel who has always enjoyed human interaction – not all angels do. So, I sigh, and play along. “I’m trance channelling.”
His laughter begins as a low rumble that I feel in my bones before anywhere else, its vibrations like the sonar of whales or dolphins, but much, much deeper and earthy – a lion. His laughter is like a lion purring in the ocean and I feel every wave.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re not trance channelling.”
“Well, I’m trying.”
“I want to. Aren’t I supposed to? I thought it might help.”
“With what?” He’s still laughing. Did you know angels laugh a lot? They do. A lot.
“Connection. Connecting to you and other angels.”
“Because this, right here, isn’t connection?”
I pause. “Well, yes, it is, it’s just--”
He lets out a sigh, though it comes out as a bit of a hiccup because he’s still bloody laughing. The laughter slowly eases off. “You’ve always been connected. And you and I? We’ve always been connected. If you think about it, you’ll remember.”
“When you were very little.”
“Oh.” I think I know what he’s alluding to, but I don’t feel like I want to go there. “So, I don’t need to … go into trance?”
“Well, no one needs to go into trance, it’s just that some people choose to – it’s their path. You? You know it’s not your path.”
I say nothing.
But he waits, because he knows I’m about to say something before I even know what that thing is. It’s weird like that with angels. Michael doesn’t mind though – like I said, he quite likes to play the ‘human’ game.
“I’m s-supposed to,” I stutter, “stay grounded.”
“Bingo.” He makes the noise of winning slot machines.
I roll my eyes.
When angels mimic, they mimic very exactly, and not with their ‘voice’ but with – well, everything around them, I guess. Air? Their mimic is not a voice mimic – it is the actual sound of the thing.
He looks at me intently. “And you know you’re supposed to stay grounded because…?”
It’s a test. I’m in class. “Because…” The answer forms in my mind, and it’s a conclusion I came to after researching astrology a short while back. “A couple of months ago, I learnt that my North Node is in Virgo, meaning I’m supposed to manifest things, in this life, in an earthly and structured manner; in a grounded way.”
He nodded once, and waited for me to continue.
“Learning that was a bit of a revelation because I’ve always wondered how I end up being so organised about things all the time without really trying, even though I also have my head in the clouds half the time.”
“Very good. Yes, it’s just part of your path – it is your path. It’s this life’s lesson, or part of it at least.”
“And trance channelling—”
“Requires a certain amount of chaos. It requires you to fracture your mind to a small degree. But you – you’re not supposed to do that. Your role is to relay information to others in the least fractured way possible. In a way that makes sense to third dimensional consciousness. That’s why we’ve allowed you some early childhood memories – very early, from when you were just a baby – and some past life memories, too.”
“No pressure.” He grinned. Did you know angels like to joke? They like to joke. A lot.
I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding, and suddenly feel frustrated. “Are you serious? If that’s my role, why not give me the mind of scientist or something? A mathematician? People love that stuff down here – everything’s about the science in 2019!”
He’s laughing again. “Well … it won’t be 2019 forever. And there are worlds that have philosophies carrying the kind of science you’ve never dreamed of. Not really like any science here.”
“You’re perfect as you are. Everyone is. The mind you have is what will be needed.”
“Okay.” I get up from the floor where I am sitting and plonk myself down on my bed. “No trance channelling for me, then.”
“As fun as it is to watch you try,” he smiles.
I scowl at him, but he knows I’m just playing, the way he likes to play. “Is that why you appeared? To tell me to quit it?”
“And to tell you I’ll be in and out – I’ll be around.”
“I feel like you’re always around. Nowadays, anyway.”
“Just nowadays?” His energy, which is also the sound of his voice, becomes softer, and suddenly, I feel like he’s looking at me very intensely. My cheeks start to burn, and I turn to face him straight on – something I never do because I can only ever really ‘see’ him out of the corner of my eye.
And true enough, he’s no longer there. In fact, he’s gone.
I never thought I'd be writing this for anyone to read: real life conversations with Archangel Michael. It started as a visitation (it always does), but it's okay, because I was quite used to them by then. And it's okay if you don't believe in angels - read this as fiction instead. Sometimes it's better that way in a crazy world where everything's topsy-turvy, and the lines between worlds are starting to blur...