Like many people on their spiritual path, it was some time before my spirit guide revealed his name to me. I must admit I thought it rather curious when he told me his name was Joe. I asked if he were an angelic being, or perhaps a saint, but he said I could just address him as Joe. Being a no-nonsense, down-to-earth kind of a person myself, I reasoned that was the type of guide I would attract.
As you may have noticed, many metaphysical people tend to ask one another who their guides are, or who they channel. Reminiscent of an earlier time when everyone asked your astrological sign. I started to see it as a game of one-upmanship: my guy's bigger than your guy. Especially when I would mention Joe. "Joe?" they would say with raised eyebrows. "Yes, that's right", I would reply, only to be told that their guide, or the one they channeled was Sananda (Jesus), St. Germaine, Buddha, Mother Mary, Ra, the Egyptian Sun God or even Merlin. THE Merlin they would add, to avoid any confusion. (There's more than one, I wondered?)
"Well", I'd shrug and say, seeing a frown or look of disbelief, "Maybe all the big guys were already taken before they got to me."
Lessons From Joe
Actually I was very happy with Joe, for one of the things he helped me understand early on was how those in spirit tried to avoid being deified. Down through history, when they made themselves known, too often they were adored and worshiped.
I thought of Jesus whose message was that we are all sons and daughters of God, and the "miracles" he performed, we are all capable of doing. There was a time when I, too, had been caught up in the same thing, when I, in awe of Joe's wisdom, realized how vast it was, and how much he had helped me to grow. I started calling him Joseph. Out of respect, I told him. Truth was, I was awestruck!
He was quick to remind me of the illusion, the sham and pretense of this world that would have us elevate one above an other when in fact we, including those in spirit, were all one.
As time went on, we were able to communicate freely, Joe and I. I always sensed when he was near and knew what he was "saying" to me.
Then one day before Christmas, I had come home from shopping for gifts, elated to have found what I thought were the perfect gifts to finish up my list. Christmas is my favorite time of year. I loved to be part of the crowds caught up in the spirit of giving, and found myself singing the words to a Christmas carol that I had heard playing and that continued to play in my head: Joy To The World (the Lord is come...) As I finished the song — the words still resounding in my ears — I felt Joe drawing near and spoke to him.
"Joe. Welcome! I'm glad to have someone to share the joy I am feeling at this, my favorite time of year. Tell me, was Christmas a favorite time for you when you were on earth?"
Joe's Identity Revealed
I realized how little Joe had ever told me about himself. All I knew was what he told me once, that he had been a carpenter and loved the smell and texture of wood under his hand.
"Yes, indeed", was his reply. Settling myself comfortably on the couch with a steaming cup of tea, I was prepared to hear more. "What was your life like when you were a carpenter? Did you have a wife? Or children?"
I "heard" the words clearly as though they had been spoken. "My wife was named Mary", he began. Ah, yes, I thought, a simple name for the wife of a simple carpenter. "When our son was born, we believed it a miracle, expecting, believing, that he would go on to accomplish great deeds." I could relate thinking of my own child's birth.
"We lived a simple life, teaching him what we knew, yet we were often astounded at things he said and did at an early age, teaching us as well." I smiled and nodded in parental agreement.
"It pleased me", Joe went on, "that he wanted to be with me in my shop watching what I was doing, asking questions, trying to emulate me. Yes, he was always curious to know about everything. One day, when my back was turned, he picked up a sharp tool, trying to cut a piece of olive wood, but instead cut his hand, and started to cry. I saw the cut was not serious and told him to stop crying and be brave, as a man must be. But his mother had come running at the sound of his cries and took him away to tend to his wound with a promise of a honey cake to make him feel better."
For no good reason, just a feeling I had, my heart started to pump harder. Something Joe had said... "What was your son's name?" I called out in my mind. The reply came back. "He was called Jesus."
Recommended Book:
Handbook for Perfect Beings: The Way Life Really Works
by B.J Wall.
The Handbook for Perfect Beings is a step-by-step guide to working with the principles that govern creation. As author B.J. Wall writes, "These guidelines are simply trying to tell you how the system of order works for this and all the other universes. They are trying to show you how you can use them to your own benefit. Read them, and then reread them. Once you start putting the pieces together, you will see how it all works, and it does, I assure you."
About The Author
Frances Shea has had a long and noted career as a handwriting analyst. She works with individuals analyzing their handwriting to give them clarity, insight and new direction based on the deepest levels of their true character and personality. Frances has an employee screening service called Hire Write (Her web site is www.Hirewrite.net) She has taught Graphology at a local college for which she wrote a comprehensive workbook, and speaks widely on the subject. She resides in Pompano Beach, Florida and can be reached at 954-782-0867, email
