Have you ever remembered something your rational mind says you couldn’t possibly have lived?
Not a dream. Not a story someone told you. But something real—visceral, undeniable. A memory that grips you, that you feel in your bones, yet has no origin in this lifetime.
I used to wonder if I was imagining things. The visions, the emotions, the echoes of another existence. But then, other people started remembering, too. People I had never told. People who, through chance encounters and activations, saw the same places, the same events, and even the same being that I had once been.
It began with a memory—one so vivid, so clear, that it felt closer than the life I was living.
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Once upon a time, I remember living on a planet full of light—soft blue radiance emanating from everything, from us. The sun was always shining. There was a vast desert landscape stretching as far as the eye could see, and within it, a single set of domed white structures—something between a palace and a temple.
My then mother and father were great leaders, not rulers, but caretakers of our world. They carried deep love for the beings there, for the entire planet itself. We understood that we were not separate from the world we lived on—we were made of it, an expression of its consciousness, just as much a part of its body as the land and the sky. Each of us had our role, our function, guided by universal intelligence, moving in harmony with the greater whole.
We did not eat food the way humans do. We lived primarily on light, but when we wished to commune with the planet, we would extend our hands toward certain plants that bore fruit. In response, they would glow and grow fuller, nourishing us as we nourished them. It was a relationship of reciprocity, a living exchange of energy.
And then, I remember that version of my soul’s wedding day. It was the happiest day of that lifetime—to stand before another, hands outstretched, merging our energy fields in divine union. There were no walls, no barriers, nothing hidden. It was total connection. We became one. And the bliss of that merging was unlike anything I have yet experienced in human form.
But love was not the only force at play in the cosmos.
One day, I sat outside the palace, watching from a hill with my beloved and our children as the attack came. The ships descended from the sky, carrying something unfamiliar—aggression. Explosions struck the palace. Smoke, fire, destruction. And in an instant, I knew.
Because we were all connected, I felt it before I could see it.
My mother. My father. My brother.
Gone.
And I was left to lead.
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For a time, I did. I gathered those who remained. We searched for safety, for a way forward, but we were unprepared. We had no weapons. No understanding of war.
We did not know how to fight.
And so, one by one, we fell. Not all at once, not in an instant, but slowly—spirits dimming, bodies dissolving back into the light we came from. I remember the moment my own body gave out, my legs no longer holding me, my consciousness unraveling into something vast. And as I left that world, one question echoed through me:
How do we stop this from happening again?
And so, I learned to fight.
Across lifetimes, in many forms, I waged battles, gathered warriors, resisted the forces that sought to extinguish light. I became what I had not been before—a fighter. But no matter how many times I won, no matter how strong I became, something still felt… wrong.
The war had never been against an enemy outside of us. I understood everything was consciousness expressing, everything was One…
We had been fighting ourselves.
And the only way to truly win—the only way to break the cycle—was to return to love. To return to the light.
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I would have thought myself crazy for remembering such things. But the memory was too vivid, too undeniable.
And then, peculiar things began to happen.
On a plane ride home from Sedona to St. Louis, I found myself seated beside a woman with a radiant presence. Though we were separated by another passenger, I noticed her entering a deep trance as I spoke. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly; I could sense energy moving around her.
When she finally emerged from the state, she turned to me and said, “That was interesting. I received a lot.” She spoke of a download about fingerprint technology—how our fingerprints are formed at the moment of our conception, imprinted with a spiral frequency that acts as a unique key. Some places and people recognize this frequency, others reject it.
I smiled. “That makes sense,” I told her. “I was recently given information about thumbprint activations—how we can connect our thumbprints to activate dormant parts of our consciousness.”
She beamed and held out her thumbs. “Let’s do it.”
I asked my guides for permission. The answer was clear: Yes.
We touched our thumbs together. A current of energy passed between us, gentle at first, then rapidly intensifying. I felt something surge outward from me, and in that instant, I heard the words, See me.
Her breath caught sharply. Her eyelids fluttered, her body trembled as if something profound had just moved through her. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a soft gasp. When she opened her eyes, tears filled them.
“Oh…” she whispered. “You loved your brother so much.”
She had seen.
She saw him through me, a glimpse of a life she had never known, and yet somehow, in that moment, recognized.
She described a vision—me, standing in the doorway as he returned from the desert. She saw the depth of our connection, the unspoken understanding between us, the love that transcended time. She witnessed a moment that had been burned into my soul—one I had never shared with her, yet one she now knew as if she had been there herself.
She had no prior knowledge of my memories. And yet, through the activation, she saw.
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A few weeks later, another activation. This time, with a woman I had met only once years prior. I reached out, uncertain of why, only that Spirit nudged me to.
We connected—thumbprints, virtually, across time and space.
As soon as we began, I felt energy moving between us. She inhaled sharply, her entire body responding as if something deep within her was being stirred awake.
When we finished, she sat in silence for a long moment. Then, finally, she spoke.
“That was one of the most powerful energetic experiences I have ever had,” she said. “I need some time to compose myself.”
She didn’t share what she had seen that day. Not yet.
But a few days later, she sent me a voice message.
I listened in awe as she described it.
She had witnessed a planet being destroyed. She saw it from the perspective of a blue being. She saw palaces being hit, fire, destruction, so much grief and despair—feelings so vast they were almost incomprehensible. She had never experienced anything like it before.
And then, she said something else.
She kept hearing the words: “Build paradise. It’s time to build paradise.”
And she kept asking, How? How do we build paradise?
The answer she received:
“Start within.”
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We did not come here alone.
We came together. A force of consciousness, of nature… of divine love.
And now, it is time to remember.
A Practice for Remembering
If something in this story stirred something in you—a feeling, a recognition, a pull toward something you can’t quite name—trust that. These memories are not just mine. They are ours.
I invite you to take a moment to connect to your own knowing.
Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Let the outside world fade away for a moment.
Place your hand over your heart or bring your thumb to your opposite thumbprint. Feel your pulse, your energy. Recognize that you are a living signature of divine intelligence.
Ask yourself: What do I already know that I have forgotten? Don’t search for an answer—just listen. Maybe a feeling arises, a vision, a word, or simply a sense of stillness.
Trust what comes. Even if it’s only an emotion, an image, or a whisper of something that makes no logical sense. Truth is often felt before it is understood.
If you feel called, write it down. You may find that over the coming days, more begins to reveal itself to you.
If you feel it—the pull, the knowing, the whispering of something long-forgotten—I invite you to join me at Mount Shasta for Christ Alchemy: A Cosmic Activation.
This is more than an event. It is a reunion of souls. A space for activation. A time to remember who we are.
If you are feeling called, I want to help you get there.
It is time.
In the Unfolding Wondering of it All,
Alara
