The Voice Of The Spirit
“…A passionate collection
of moments, miracles and milestones in the marathon of humanness
and the soul’s discovery of the Source of unlimited power
and invincible love waiting to flow through us all.”
© 2010 The Voice of the Spirit, S.G.Rose, All Rights Reserved
B eautifully-written, honest, witty and tender, this inspired anthology spans thirty-five years
of the Author’s life, beginning with her dramatic spiritual awakening and the Divine commission to transcribe
and share the life-changing experiences, revelations and communications that followed.
We are her companions on a journey of faith to higher ground, where timeless treasures of hope,
enlightenment and encouragement await at every turn.
Seeking hearts, weary travelers, wounded souls and all those who long to hear and follow God’s voice
will encounter Him within these pages.
“The Voice of the Spirit” was first published in 1999.
Those who embraced it’s message will welcome this new edition,
which includes additional writings and insights and more than 30 original photographs.
Order your signed copy today by clicking the link at the bottom of this page, or by emailing email@example.com
(Also available through amazon.com)
“We stood facing Love’s light, our arms stretched upward in ecstatic communion,
our eyes, our souls, our entire beings welcoming and surrendering to its glory.
We were one with it and it with us.
I felt the energy particles pour into my fingertips and course through my body…
I was taking part in a never-ending exchange of love
between the Creator and His children – the ultimate union of God and man.
This was who we were created to be and this is what we were created to do…
This fusion with the Light was my true existence…” From Resurrection
Death’s darkness was deeper than I’d imagined.
In the icy silence I slept, and dreamed that I was not in the tomb but that the tomb was in me.
A familiar voice called my name in the dream from somewhere far away.
It grew louder, closer, more insistent… From The Tomb
“As I continued to absorb the vision, fuller understanding came.
Had I never been shown any other spiritual pictures in my life; nor ever heard any other truth from God;
nor ever read His words on a page; nor ever felt Him teach and comfort my heart,
this one revelation would have been enough for a lifetime – and indeed, it has been –
for God was showing me who we really are.” From The Source
“There are messages and prophecies within this book.
If a passage seems to have been written just for you, it was.
When God speaks, His words are the golden key that unlocks our secret heart.” From Messages
(The above excerpts appear on the back cover…see more, along with sample photographs below)
About the Author…
S elah Gayle Rose was born in a small Western Washington town in 1948. Her childhood was spent exploring the forests, mountains and waters
of the majestic Pacific Northwest, where a love for nature, literature and the arts took root at a young age.
As the daughter of a Serbian mother and part Native American father, she feels a deep connection to the courage and spirituality of her ancestors.
“Whatever form my work takes, I have always been motivated by the desire to inspire and encourage others.
Creativity is a Divine flow without end, and as its channels, we’re designed to share what we’ve received.
It’s my assignment – my passion, purpose and calling.”
A published multi-media artist and writer of 35 years, Gayle’s writings and images have found their way around the world,
many taking on lives of their own in circulation on the internet.
Gayle and her husband, Lance, live in the shadow of Washington State’s Cascade Mountain range.
They share four grown children and three grandchildren.
A look inside…
30 photos, 48 writings, 218 pages
How It Began
Write the Book
Visions and Dreams
*The Path (excerpt, below)
*The Adventure (excerpt, below)
Truth and Consequences
*The Rose (excerpt, below)
*The Tree (excerpt, below)
*The Storm (excerpt, below)
Anything I Know, I Learned the Hard Way
Dragons and Dungeons
*The Courtyard (excerpt, below)
From the Maze
The Potter’s Cup
*The Legend of the Great Fisherman (excerpt, below)
The Path … I closed my eyes, and in the next heartbeat I found myself standing near a trailhead at twilight. The place was unfamiliar, and while I knew, of course, that it was my spirit, not my physical body which had been transported there … I was so drawn into the experience that my spiritual form felt more real than the body I had “left behind.” The first thing I noticed was that my senses had all become remarkably acute. Every sight, smell and sensation was amplified far beyond what we experience in the flesh… An immense dark mountain filled my field of vision…
The Adventure … To experience the adventure that awaits in the realm of the spirit, those who have begun the journey know that the first steps, and all those that follow, must be taken by faith. There is no other way to go there. Our infinite souls were created to explore unseen dimensions just as our finite bodies carry within them the yearning to explore this earth. We are more than flesh and blood, and more exists within and around us than can be seen with human eyes. To search out these other domains is our birthright. What we find there will enlighten and transform us, and with this higher knowledge we will better understand our purpose here. Jesus said, “The Kingdom of God is within you.” … Yet many of us were never shown how to go within, nor were we told it is just as important, if not more so, to explore this sacred inner terrain as it is to find our place in the physical world. Furthermore, if we talk about these matters much, we risk being called dreamers, religious fanatics or fools…. Human beings are body, mind and spirit, yet the notion exists that while we must nurture the body and mind, our souls can be left empty, untended, untrained, unfed and ignored. The result is a gnawing sense that something is missing…
The Rose … Life was as perfect as I’d ever dreamed it could be on that warm, October afternoon. We lived in a cozy hand-hewn house then, tucked into a little clearing in the forest, hidden safely away from the rest of the world. When winter snows blanketed the roof, apple cider and hearty stew simmered in kettles atop the wood stove, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted through our homemade heaven. In springtime, the children and I caught polliwogs, gathered trilliums and hunted for mushrooms beneath the towering cottonwoods. Summer’s highlight was the old-fashioned small town Fourth of July celebration, with pony rides, patchwork quilts spread out under ancient oak trees, picnic baskets filled with fried chicken and raspberry scones – and the magic of fireworks beneath the stars. …Autumn’s spell was the sweetest of them all. It’s always been my favorite season. I was born then – perhaps that is why. Autumn turned our forest red and yellow, crisp and pungent like the apples in the old orchard at the end of the road. In the shadow of Mt. Rainier, the changing leaves were breathtaking. Magenta, gold, crimson and every shade in between – they stole the stage from all of nature as they danced to earth for their final bow. A sign, perhaps, that some things are their most beautiful at the time of passing…
The Tree … Evening had brought a merciful end to another difficult, frustrating and exhausting day. Like a seemingly endless string of rusty boxcars loaded with adversity, they’d been rumbling past, one after the other, for weeks on end with no caboose in sight… Would the battles ever end? Somewhere I’d gotten the impression that spiritual awareness was going to make things easier, but it seemed like the opposite was happening. Was this what I should expect from now on? One problem after another? Surely I must be doing something wrong! …I sat down, rested my weary head in my hands, and prepared to discuss the latest mess with God, Who I desperately hoped had answers. He didn’t send a bouquet of balloons to my pity party, or dispel my troubles with the wave of a magic wand, but His message was a permanent fix for my recurring confusion: Enlightenment. …before I could form the first word of my prayer, all of my attention was commanded by a dramatic living picture that had been projected into my mind. …A magnificent, mystical tree of massive proportions dominated the scene before me. Light seemed to emanate from within it, causing every detail … to stand out vividly against the deep twilight sky…
The Storm … The boat glided effortlessly through the water, and the sound of the waves splashing softly against the hull soon washed away all stress. The men’s day had begun before dawn, and they were exhausted. Rocked by the sea, they relaxed and lapsed into companionable silence. …Peter caught Yeshua stifling a yawn, and urged him to take a nap in the shelter of the bow. He needed little coaxing, and grinned at his friends apologetically as he made his way to the front of the boat to lie down… Peter had almost dozed off himself when the tiller suddenly jerked violently under his hand. The mainsail snapped taut as a cold blast of wind slammed into the side of the skiff, causing it to lurch violently. The men exchanged surprised looks, and Andrew shouted in alarm as he pointed toward the north. Storms were unheard of in the region this time of the year, but a dense, ominous gray wall had materialized out of nowhere and was billowing toward them. Within seconds it blocked out the sun, and then it unleashed its full fury upon the craft and her unprepared passengers…
The Courtyard … I hadn’t been to the city in over a month. It was my least favorite place to be, and I steeled myself as I walked through the gate into the crowded, bustling marketplace. My youngest son had been gravely ill for many months…I’d spent everything I had on medicines, but nothing had helped. Now the physicians were saying the sickness had done permanent damage and that my little boy would not live much longer… The atmosphere in the market felt different than usual. People seemed agitated and distracted and I overheard snatches of conversations and debates about prisoners and Pilot’s decision to release one of them in honor of Passover. No wonder there were so many people in town. I’d completely forgotten about the holiday! …Religion and politics – I had little interest in either. …I had nothing in common with these folks. My wealth was not that of the women I saw here, draped in fine fabrics and gold, whose maidservants carried their purchases. My treasures were my children…
The Legend of the Great Fisherman … Summer held the countryside in her warm embrace like a nurturing mother who’d been away from her children too long… Contented sighs from Heaven caressed the rolling hills and the hot air hummed with the sounds of the insects assigned to the thistles and foxgloves. Except for an occasional staccato squabble between the crows perched in the old oak trees, nothing marred the idyllic scene. At the end of the lane a white birch forest stood watch beside a pond. It’s welcome shade and cooling breezes had been calling to the familiar figure who was on his way there. The man’s sandals kicked up small clouds of dust and the crickets fell silent as he passed by. Like the rest of the countryside’s residents, he was not in a hurry, and stopped now and then to inhale the fragrance of a wildflower or to follow the flight of a hawk circling lazily above. Slung over his shoulder was an old, worn fisherman’s net that swung softly from side to side as he made his way down the well-traveled path. …At the pond, the weeping willows draped themselves over the shallows, devotedly sheltering the unseen creatures below. The afternoon was slipping away, and the young rainbow trout were awakening from their naps, hungry…
When all the tears have been cried
And all expectations have gone unmet
When the desperate thrashing has stopped
And hopes and dreams lie shattered
When all our ways have failed
And the chorus of voices has grown silent
When prayers have emptied our soul
In the death of emotions spent
When we’ve surrendered, in humble, broken acceptance
When holding on has become impossible
And everything dear has slipped through our clutching fingers
When we’ve let it all go
Lost it all
And the trivial matters no more
When faith’s last breath can be seen
Only by One far greater than ourselves
He walks quietly in
And miracles happen.
All excerpts © 2010 The Voice of the Spirit, S.G. Rose, All Rights Reserved
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