Meridjet is a spirit guide unlike any other I’ve ever encountered, either directly or via other people. I’ve told the story of how I came to know him many times, but for this post I think we’ll try something new — hit the high points and a few lows, mix the recipe up a bit and see how well it serves.
I first coined the term “spirit companion” in 1999 to differentiate between Meridjet and what everyone called “spirit guides,” because he was a friend and lover before he was a guide. In fact, I had contact with my guides as well, so it was necessary for simplicity in conversation to have another term by which to refer to Meridjet. “Spirit lover” was too personal and begged immediate questions, so I didn’t want to use that. “Spirit husband” was an invitation to dismiss arbitrarily everything I had to say without further consideration. So I had to come up with something that stood on its own and avoided easy categorization.
Meridjet’s first two years with me were a struggle. I suffered doubts and even fear for my sanity. I was lucky enough to have a friend of many years living with me at the time, and he was a source of much-needed support and relative objectivity. Initially, Meridjet just seemed like a regular guy I knew, albeit a dead one — not something you’d expect to encounter, but he really didn’t strike me as particularly gifted in spiritual knowledge and he did not serve me as a guide. We shared an intimate and emotional relationship, and I obsessed on ways to get him a more tangible form so that our relationship could be “real.”
He eventually had to leave, and at the time it seemed as if the reason for his departure was my need to have him in a body, as if that would somehow legitimize his existence and my adoration. Based on later information, his departure provided an opportunity for him to “cross the Abyss,” a concept in Thelema and Hermetic Qabalah that means, in essence, to reinvent oneself. Meridjet describes it like this (channeled):
Meridjet speaks —
Imagine entering a darkness, not only in your sight, but in your mind. All around you is foreign, emerging suddenly into your vision and receding with equal speed. You’re frightened, and you’re lost, and you have no idea how to correct either. You remember something from your past, and it gives you a moment of strength before it is stripped away, gone, as if it had never been.
Each issue of your lifetime — the happy, the sad, the guilt-ridden, the resentful, all of them — are faced and become your everything until you have made peace with them. Then they, too, are taken from you. The challenges of the Keeper at the Gates bear teeth, and they will rend you.
Everything you know, everything of your life or your history that gives you a sense of belonging, your place in the scheme of things — even your name, it’s all stripped away, layer by painful layer until you are naked. You have nothing — no sense of individuality, no sense of self; you are reduced to a point of consciousness in a vast dark (and occasionally screaming) nothing, unaware that you observe, unable to direct your focus. You are an infant in the vastness of the Universe, with no frame of reference to provide an awareness of your existence.
And there you float, lie, swim — pick your preference — until eventually it changes. It may be, in the measures of time on Earth, moments. It may be millennia. Typically, it is merely years. But eventually, there’s a glimmer, a tiny little glow at the center of your consciousness that is different from how it’s “always” been. There’s no explanation for this change except one: you are becoming. In spite of all that brought you here and all that would hold you, you are becoming and you will not be thwarted.
As the glimmering point of light that is love, self, God, All, everything and nothing, grows, you begin to. . . not re-form, but re-emerge, birth yourself from the emptiness that emanates from Kether and gives shape to all. You become not who you were, because that person or being is no more. You become who you are, who you were always meant to be underneath the baggage and the blinders and the endless rules of conformity that strain to contain each of us our entire lives. It’s almost like a deflated vinyl balloon, shapeless in the attic for 11 months, re-emerges as the beloved December snowman or nutcracker, brought to life once more for another holiday season.
As your consciousness expands from awareness of self to awareness of All to awareness of Self-as-All-As-Self, you regain the knowledge of your deeds and ideas, as well as their process of understanding. You have made it across the chasm of the lost and the damned, and you will walk away not only unscathed, not only healed, but whole in a way you have never imagined.
You Become. And the knowledge of that Becoming inspires a desire to find expression for your gratitude. So, if you’re like me, you go back to that special person you once had to leave, and you take up the mantle of Teacher. You begin to guide her to reach her own Becoming, with hope, love, and pure unadulterated joy.
Words are not the best tools for such rapture or for describing what happens to each of us, but know this: Becoming is not the end of the journey. It is the Beginning.