At the height of the Supreme Belief Project— during this phase of... for lack of a better understanding I'll call heavy "astral activity", something happened that has never left me. I was walking toward the physical entry of my home when I sensed a presence beside me. Not behind me. Not hovering. Beside me.
It felt as though another being were walking at my exact pace, matching my stride so precisely that my body registered companionship before my eyes could register form. There was nothing solid to see—no clear figure—but there may have been a silhouette, this was closer than the rabbi who guided me through answers or delivered instructions. Close like the encounter with Yemoja in my bedroom—yet more there, more physically present in humanness—including form. This presence felt unmistakably aware of me. Aware in a way that carried admiration. Excitement. Tender focus.
I sensed—almost heard—it call me by name. I remember the feeling of being seen and the soft declaration that I was beautiful. What struck me most was not the compliment itself, but how it was delivered. The presence seemed to share with me its perception of my worth, as if inviting me—just briefly—into a viewpoint I do not often have access to here on earth.
The feeling was gentle. Loving. Pure. Uncomplicated by judgment or expectation. It was as if this presence saw me not as I see myself, but as something already complete before I incarnated into earth. Already perfect in a way I cannot fully perceive while embodied on earth in human form.
There was warmth in the exchange—an unmistakable desire for my well-being. It felt proud of me, though I did not know why. Almost relieved to finally speak. Almost joyful to be recognized. The energy felt masculine—not in dominance, but in vitality. Zest. Presence. So I asked, not aloud but inwardly, telepathically: What is your name? The answer came clearly and with so much pure love as if the words carried rays of light: “I am Theo.”
On the Name “Theo”
Later, much later, I would look into the name itself. Theo is both a given name and a hypocorism. In Greek, names beginning with Theo- derive from theos (θεός), meaning God. Feminine forms include Thea, Theodora, Theophania. Masculine forms include Theodore, Theophilus, Theodotus—names that imply divine gift, divine love, or belonging to God.
In Germanic roots, Theo- can also trace back to theud, meaning people or folk—a reminder that names often carry layered meanings across cultures and time.
At the moment of the encounter, however, none of this context was present for me. Too much was happening then. Downloads, insights, openings—I didn’t always have the capacity to chase every subtle reality as it arrived. But the memory stayed.
Encountering Others Who Spoke of “THEO”
Much later, curiosity returned me to the experience. I wondered whether anyone else had encountered a presence by that name. That search eventually led me to the work of Sheila and Marcus Gillette, who speak of channeling a being—or beings—called THEO.
The way they described the energetic quality, the tone, the intelligence—it resonated deeply with what I had felt. And yet, there was a difference. Their THEO is described as a collective. What I encountered did not feel like “many.” He felt singular.
Or perhaps not singular in limitation, but singular in focus—as though he were the culmination of something vast, distilled into one awareness. It felt like he knew me completely. As if he had known my substance before incarnation, before form, before identity. As if he remembered me from a state where I was not fractured by time or self-doubt—where I was simply light.
There was a strange sense that he understood my physical life fully and yet did not mistake it for the whole of me. As if my body were a costume. My earthly life, a kind of stage. And for reasons I still cannot articulate, he seemed proud of me. Excited to speak my name. Delighted that I could hear him. Almost as though he spent much time contemplating what it would be like for me to know THEO knows me and for me to acknowledge that.
Why the Encounter Endures
I cannot forget that moment. It is easy—perhaps unavoidable—to measure other experiences against it. To ask whether anyone I’ve met in human form has ever communicated love in quite that way. Whether anyone has ever looked at me with such uncomplicated recognition of value.
I don’t say this to diminish human love. Only to acknowledge that this encounter revealed a different register of seeing—one that felt free of projection, need, or fear. I have not yet had the time, or perhaps the readiness, to dig much deeper into the matter. But here I am again, remembering. Wondering.
Theo—are you there?
Are you one, or many?
Will we meet again in this lifetime?
I don’t know the answers. But I know this: there are moments that mark us not because they explain reality, but because they expand our sense of it. They remind us that we may be more known than we realize. More seen. More remembered. And perhaps—somewhere beyond distraction, beyond form—there are beings, states, or intelligences that recognize us not as unfinished, but as already eternally beloved.
.jpg)
Post a Comment