When We Let Go, We Fly
By James Guiry
Certified Life Between Lives® Facilitator, USA
Introduction
Debbie arrived with a deep sense of curiosity and longing, carrying questions that had followed her for years. She felt an unshakable connection to someone she was certain she had shared many past lives with, and she wanted to understand the purpose of their bond in this life.
Alongside this, she carried the profound presence of a son—a child she had never physically birthed yet always sensed. The mystery of his energy, his absence yet undeniable existence, called her to seek answers.
Fear also lingered within her: a lifelong fear of losing family, a recurring pattern of abandonment, and a deep uncertainty about love. Her nightmares of trying to save loved ones hinted at something much older than this lifetime.
Above all, she worried—would she be able to go deep enough to find the clarity she sought?
Letting Go of Loneliness
Debbie stood on an old street, its surface smooth yet worn, as if countless feet had passed this way before. The air was warm, carrying the distant hum of life, yet the place itself was quiet. A gentle breeze brushed against her skin like a memory barely remembered.
Buildings surrounded her—low, unassuming—neither threatening nor inviting. It was a place in between— between past and present, movement and stillness. A deep sense of safety settled in her chest, warmth radiating from within.
She felt a presence nearby—unseen, but familiar. A weight pressed against her throat, tightening her voice, as though something long unspoken sought release. She inhaled deeply, and as she exhaled, thick black smoke drifted from her mouth, spiraling upward, dissolving into nothingness. The tension eased.
Then, a presence appeared.
The guardian in the shadow to her right, just beyond the soft glow of a streetlamp, a figure emerged—shadowed, yet pulsing with a quiet, protective energy. Tall, masculine, familiar.
“He's always been with me,” Debbie whispered, recognizing the presence that had watched over her for as long as she could remember. A message resonated through her being. “Grow. Fly higher.” The words weren’t spoken, but felt. The guardian extended his hand—not flesh, but energy. She reached forward, and the world fell away. She was soaring.
The Return to Home
Beyond space and time, she landed in a city of golden light, where beings moved in pairs—none alone, none wandering. Her body trembled, vibrating from the inside out, adjusting to something ancient and profound.
She turned to the guardian, her voice shaking. “Why does my body react like this when I feel safe?”
“Because you are remembering.” His voice, without sound, wrapped around her like a promise.
Her form, once solid, began shifting—light and fluid. Spirit, unbound. “I don’t like being human,” she admitted. “I feel trapped.”
The guardian’s energy pulsed. “Align with it. You cannot fight the body—you must work with it.”
The words settled in her like an unshakable truth. The resistance softened. “Then take me somewhere just for us,” she said. And he did.
The Library of the Soul
Shelves of infinite books rose around her, glowing with an inner light. A familiar presence surrounded her.
“Papa.”
An elderly man stood before her. He was a dear friend that had passed away recently. His arms wrapped around her, anchoring her in the truth of their eternal connection.
“I’ve never left you,” he assured her. Tears welled as his familiar scent surrounded her, filling the space where loss once lived.
“What do I do?” she asked.
“You go on.”
A pathway emerged outside the library, mist swirling to reveal five doors. One stood apart—a blue door, pulsing with a familiar energy. She reached for it, and a wave of happiness washed over her.
“This is the one.” She stepped through.
A Life Remembered– The Mother and the Boy
A small house, stone beneath bare feet. Debbie saw herself—another self—dressed in beige, long black hair flowing in the wind. Somewhere in Europe, in her twenties. A boy laughed nearby, spinning in the sunlight.
“He's mine.”
But the vision shifted. The house darkened. The boy lay in bed. Still. “He’s sick.” Fever burned through his small body. She knelt beside him, helpless, watching as the life within him dimmed. And then he was gone.
The years passed—silent, endless. No husband. No child. No life beyond sorrow. Decades blurred.
At seventy, she lay in the same small bed. As her final breath left her, one thought carried her beyond: “The boy.” And then, release.
Reunion Beyond Time
Light surrounded her. Fireflies danced in the air.
And then—him.
The boy. Waiting. But not a child anymore—eternal, radiant.
“You’re here,” she whispered.
“I never left.”
They sat on endless steps leading up to a great temple of knowledge. Beings of light, past loved ones, guides—forming a great circle, holding them in love.
She breathed him in, merging, remembering. “What do I do now?”
“Rise.”
Letting go of Loneliness
The sacred library shimmered, dissolving into something new—a vast space untouched by time. Books stacked high, their spines glistening with unknown wisdom. The golden glow of an unseen sun filtered through, casting long beams of light.
She reached out, fingers tracing the spine of a blue book, pulsing with life. Beside it, a thin green one rested, delicate yet potent.
“Knowledge.”
The man—her guide, her soul’s companion—nodded. “It is all here. Everything you seek.”
Yet she felt something stir deep within her—a weight, an old, stagnant presence lodged inside her very being. It was the sadness. The loneliness.
The lingering grief from that past life, the loss of the boy, the decades of solitude, the unanswered prayers whispered into an empty home. It clung to her ribs, heavy and thick, resisting release.
“You do not need to carry this anymore.” The voice was her own. A knowing part of her, finally ready. She exhaled. A deep, slow breath. As she did, something dark and thick began to seep from her skin, from her chest, from the deep corners of her soul. It pooled into her palms—heavy, viscous, mud. It clung to her hands, thick and suffocating. The boy helping her remove this
“Let it go,” he said.
She inhaled again, this time filling her lungs with something lighter, something higher.
Then—she exhaled.
The mud peeled away, drawn from her body like ink unraveling in water. It dripped down her arms, sliding off her fingertips, falling to the unseen ground below. But it did not stay. As it hit the air, the thick black sludge began to evaporate, dissolving into thin wisps of smoke, then into nothingness. Her body, once weighed down, felt open. The mud was gone. The loneliness. The grief. The feeling of being trapped in sorrow for lifetimes. Gone.
“Softness. Love. The truth of what you are.”
The Hug
Debbie stood before the boy—no longer lost, no longer bound by sorrow. He was here. She pulled him into her arms, warmth radiating outward, filling the spaces where loneliness once lived. He held her too, tighter than she expected.
Then, something shifted. His form elongated, hands grew stronger. Limbs stretched, his height rising until he stood equal to her. He was still him.
Debbie loosened her grip. The boy was no longer a boy. Before her stood a man—his energy strong, stable, infinite. A lifetime of longing—only to realize it had never truly left.
Debbie met his gaze. “Then I promise you this—I will rise.”He rested his hand over her heart. “You already are.”
Debbie closed her eyes, letting the truth settle deep within. No more loss. No more sorrow. Only love.
Closing Reflections: Revisiting the Journey
As Debbie's session came to a close, it was clear— she had gone exactly where she needed to. The questions she had at the start weren’t just answered; they were felt, lived, and released.
She had come in wondering about a deep soul connection—someone she knew had been with her through many lives. And now, there was no doubt.
That connection wasn’t just real; it had purpose. “Grow. Fly higher.” That was the message. It wasn’t about clinging to the past, but about what this connection was meant to awaken in her now.
Then there was the presence of the son she never had—the energy that had been with her for as long as she could remember. It all made sense when she stepped through that door. The past life as a mother, the love, the unbearable grief of loss—it had carried over, still lingering in this life as a question, a feeling she could never quite explain. Until now.
And then came the weight—the fear, the sorrow, the loss that had clung to her chest for lifetimes. It took form, that heavy black mud, rising from deep within her. But this time, instead of holding onto it, she let it go. Watching it lift, watching it dissolve—it wasn’t just symbolic. She felt it leave. The loneliness, the fear of abandonment, the deep rooted grief—it didn’t belong to her anymore.
She had worried she wouldn’t be able to go deep enough. But as she sat there in the final moments of her journey, holding that single white feather, she knew—she had gone as deep as she needed to. “Softness. Love. The truth of what you are.”
And that’s the thing about these journeys. They don’t just give you answers; they shift something inside you. They remind you that you’ve never been lost, just remembering.
Final Thoughts: What This Story Offers
Debbie's experience is one so many of us can relate to—feeling an unexplained connection to someone, carrying a weight we can’t name, living with a fear that doesn’t seem to come from this life.
Her session wasn’t just about uncovering the past—it was about releasing it. The message is simple but powerful: we don’t have to hold onto old grief, old fear, old patterns. We’re not here to be weighed down by the past. We’re here to rise.
And when we finally let go, we don’t fall—we fly. ♥
James Guiry is an LBL facilitator in Las Vegas, Nevada, and sees clients in-person and online.