04/23/2025
Fragmented Into 10,000 Pieces to Find Truth - Birth of the Sanctuary: Nature's Retreat
My first experience with the Spirit World occurred at age eight, in the early 80s. I was standing in a luminescent space where my feet didn’t actually feel like they were on any type of ground. My great-grandmother appeared from nowhere and leaned down with a smile, “Well young lady, I’m leaving now but you will do amazing things.” I looked up at her confused, “Leaving? Where are you going?” She smiled a smile that knows she can’t explain to an eight year old where she was going, “I’m going to Heaven. But I’ll always be with you, right here,” placing her hand over my heart, “and you can talk to me any time and I’ll show right up.” She leaned down with one of her big squishy hugs. She smelled of roses and chili. I smiled up at her and suddenly, I was being shaken lightly, “Rene, Rene, wake up. Rene.” Groggily, I opened one eye, “Huh?” It was my mother. “Rene, you need to wake up, Little G’ma died.” I just rubbed my closed eye, “I know,” and tried to turn back over. Mom wiggled my shoulder again, “Rene, did you hear me? You need to wake up. I’ve got to go to California. When y’all get up go over to Mary’s. Little G’ma died. Rene!” I turned onto my back, opened both eyes, and whispered, “Yes I heard you. Little G’ma died. She told me already.” My mom shook her head, “What?” I repeated myself, “Yes, I know. She told me already. And you are going to California. And you want us to go to Mary’s when we get up.” Mom just shook her head again and made an exasperated sound in her throat, “Rene, we’re leaving now.” “Okay Momma, have a good trip.” I turned back over onto my side and immediately fell back to sleep. I never told my siblings about this event. I assumed everyone got a visit from Little G’ma.
The next experience I remember wasn’t as beautiful. I was twelve. And I was terrified. We were at a giant enchilada cook-off. I think the town was trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records. I had been running around with my brother, Sid, climbing trees, running through barns, under and over animal pens. “Hey, I’m hungry and I’m gonna go see what Terry is doing.” He nodded and continued his climb in the barn. As I ran toward the main event I could see Terry about 100 yards away. She was with her buddy, Brian, and he was picking up a bow and arrow. There were giant round hay bales with targets painted on them. I ran as fast as I could towards them because there was a huge line of kids and I wanted to try to shoot the bow too. Even though I knew Terry would be really upset if I tried to cut in line and shoot one of hers, I was willing to take the heat to ask her. I was halfway to the line of targets, closing in on Terry, when I was blasted with energy. I felt like someone or some-thing tried to rip my soul out of my solar plexus. I doubled over onto the ground, eyes clenched tight, rolling from side to side. I couldn’t see anything. I could only feel pain. The next thing I knew I was being lifted from the ground and carried to the pickup truck. Mom ended up taking us home and I had a very high fever.
Mom put me in her bed and kissed my forehead. Terry and Sid were not happy that we had to leave before the cook-off was done. I don’t even know if she ever got her turn with the bow and arrow. But what I do know is that every single time the bedroom door closed the world became a lot more scary. The room seemed to tilt, the ceiling began to swirl, I could see one face, then two, then three, then five, then eight, then 13, this went on into the thousands. And each time a face appeared, a voice came with it. It happened so fast that I couldn’t even begin to describe any kind of time frame with it, I just began screaming at the top of my lungs. My brother burst into the room, “What! What is going on? Are you ok?” Everything stopped as soon as he stepped into the room. I lay in the bed crying, “I don’t know.” He scoffed, “Come on Rene. We’re playing right now. Just go to sleep.” I closed my eyes and turned onto my side as he closed the door. The experience instantly started again. I felt like an eternity before the door opened again. Twice more it happened and I just sobbed to him, “Please don’t close the door. Don’t close the door. Every time you close the door voices come.” He shook his head, “Whatever Rene. You’re really sick. There’s nothing there.” I pleaded with him, “Please, please don’t close the door.” He left the door open and I began to pray in ernest for this to just go away. Once, I just sat in the corner of my bed, rocking, holding a bible, tears streaming down my face, asking God to take this ability away. I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know how to use it. The only people that were around had no guidance on spirits and would have just called me crazy or possessed. All the while disregarding the beauty of my Great Grandmother’s leaving the physical world. I prayed until the sun came up. Prayed to be put in a glass box where nothing could get in.
The next time I turned a television on I saw a talk show that had Sylvia Brown on it. I was like, hmmmm I wonder if I could get in touch with her and learn? A few months later I saw a show with John Edward. Again, I was curious as to if someone could teach me. Maybe I wasn’t crazy. Maybe it was all real. I started combing libraries for information. I would stay up until midnight searching for anything with either of them on it. Seeing the both of them, hearing their stories at this time during my own desire to shut mine off, left a little gap in my glass box. I don’t remember much about the next three years. Probably just normal kid stuff, with a smattering of not giving up finding someone who could teach me what those old experiences were all about. I wrote a paper when I was 15 about the seven levels of Heaven and how the Soul progressed through these levels. The English teacher kept it (which I’m still sore about), but all that paper did was create more curiosity concerning the disincarnate world and how it can communicate with us.
At 16, my baby nephew was tragically killed in a vehicle accident. I was destroyed because I didn’t get to see him that day. As I sat on my bed sobbing, I was suddenly asleep, floating in that place again. But this time I could see a large colorful valley below me. I was at the edge of the colors, colors brighter than anything I’ve ever seen here. The tree I could see at its center was massive, and suddenly there he was, floating in the nothingness towards me. I got to give him a hug and so many messages were exchanged without words. The feeling of love was like the air, the wind, the breath. It was everywhere. He floated out of my arms. I was crying and he had a soft smile on his 14-month old chubby face. My eyes popped open in my room. I was so sad and grateful at the same time because I knew this was real. And I got to feel his love, smell him, feel his soft skin, and receive a gift of awareness that there is life beyond this physical knowing we get lost in.
I continued in curiosity, searching for that someone who could teach me about Spirit Talking. But, I never wanted that glass wall to go down because I was afraid of that one experience with the voices, faces, and room tilting. A few times, spirit got in with a message for a loved one. All the while I’m arguing with them like Whoopie and Sam in the movie Ghost. But every time it was beautiful: when I would finally give in with an agreement that they would get out of my mime-box.
Around age 30 I saw a man’s face in my mind’s eye as I drove to work. I just let the thoughts flow into hmmm that was strange. At lunch time I felt like someone was pushing on me for about 15 minutes. I started looking around my physical body like I was going crazy. Then I started looking around the restaurant, resuming my role checking on customers. As my eyes landed on a lady sitting all by herself, I saw his face again and a whisper, “Go to her.” I instantly started arguing with him. “Get out of here! No way! Absolutely Not! Nuh un nope, not doing anything, so you can just leave now.” He pushed again, “Please go to her. She needs to know.” I internally thought, “No way. First, she’s just going to think I’m crazy. Second, I didn’t give you permission to get in my box. So GET OUT!” His energy backed away a little, “Please, please, she needs to know. I need you to go to her.” I exhaled loudly, “What do you want me to tell her? If I do this, will you leave?” He gently, softly backed away more, “Yes, just tell her I’m always with her. I’m okay. I love her. All she has to do is call out and I’m right there.” I took a deep breath and approached the woman. She slowly looked up from her plate with an absent smile on her face. Hastily, I said, “Look, you’re going to thing I’m crazy but this man will NOT leave me alone. I don’t do this. I don’t go to people. But he will NOT stop. So, here goes. This man said to tell you that he loves you, he’s always with you, and all you have to do is call out and he’ll be there.” Now I actually blinked and saw her. Tears were streaming down her face. “I don’t think you’re crazy. Thank you. Thank you. Oh my God. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. You see, that is my dad. Today is his one year death-anniversary and I miss him terribly. That’s why I came here. He loved this place.” I gasped and leaned down and hugged her. As I turned in wonder I quickly admonished the Others in charge of my mime-wall. Quickly checking it for stability, all the while a little sad inside for the fear that wouldn’t allow me to just bask in the gift.
Then, the unthinkable happened. It was December 15, 2019, around seven in the morning. I was driving home from being at the hospital with my first born granddaughter. Feeling exhausted and sad that I had to leave; but, there were four small children at home that needed me, so it was time to go home. My husband phoned, his voice breathless, “Honey, I’m sorry, but you need to come home.” I said, “I’m almost there, like thirty minutes away. What’s going on?” He quickly stated, “Just come home.” And he hung up. I thought that was odd. I didn’t even have a chance to ask him if the children at home were ok before he hung up. Then the glass box shattered and fragmented into 10,000 pieces. My car filled with light, with love, and the voice of my 21 year old son over my right shoulder, “I love you Mom. I’m sorry.” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I punched the steering wheel. I cried desperately knowing that he was dead. There was too much love in the car for it to be something else. I don’t remember the drive home. I just remember being out of body, above my car as it drove down our road, as it pulled into the driveway, and I could see my husband pacing back and forth in the yard. I watched myself jump from the car and run across the yard yelling at him, sobbing with weak knees, “You tell me he’s not dead. You tell me he didn’t kill himself. You tell me…” My voice broke as he laid his hands on my shoulders, “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that,” tears streaming down his face. As soon as his hands touched me, I could see through my eyes again. But the box was broken. There was too much love in that visit for it ever to be rebuilt. And this is how my journey began. And along the way I found out no one ever tried to attack me and tear out my soul. That was the Mind's Way, to generate fear (But that is another story). I finally understand my purpose for service to humanity. I am here to illuminate the way for those who know there is something beautiful out there but they are too afraid to experience it. Join me soon as I will provide the tools you need to step on the other side of the fear and embrace the love. There is nothing else. There is only truth and truth is love. Everything else is an illusion.
Copyright: Kathleen Rene Garza, Luna Nera
