Jesse was the first person to suggest to me that some of the benevolent strangers we encounter are not even human, but incarnated guardians. Corporeal angels.

This is a continuation of Stranger Angels: Part 1. If you haven’t heard the story about my weird European stalker who looked like a mannequin, then hit pause and go listen to Episode 08.

It will make this sequel a lot more satisfying...

I met Jesse in 2002, exactly ten years after that trip to Europe. I was thirty-two years old. I had lived through a really shitty Saturn Return that nuked all the structure in my world and left me in a ditch that I would spend most of my thirties crawling out of. At the time, I was recovering from a serious illness and working on rebuilding the basics of third-dimensional existence — you know: job, place to live — I had no way of knowing that I was about a year away from a major Trip Down the Rabbit Hole that would deliver me to some different level of identity and I suppose a reorientation to my spiritual path — events that climaxed with an intervention by my guides, an ultimatum regarding my sense of purpose, and ultimately the creation of Shift Your Spirits and the work for which you know me.

Conscious Evolution: Awakening the Power of Our Social Potential by Barbara Marx Hubbard

The Ones Who Glow by Slade Roberson

Angels 101 by Doreen Virtue

A Book of Angels by Sophy Burnham

An Angel for Every Day by Angela McGerr

Sylvia Browne's Book of Angels

Angel of the Revelation by William Blake

phylum/ phyla — the different types or levels of angels: Thrones and Principalities, Dominions, Virtues, Carrions, Powers, Seraphim, Cherubim, Archangels, Angels

asher — your personal guardian angel (body guard)

silver cord technician — the angel who manages your silver cord connection to spirit

The Books of Enoch

Mother Mary Speaks to Us by Brad Steiger and Sherry Hansen Steiger

Quantum Spirituality — this is not the book I remember. I may have the title wrong...

Quantum Theology by Diarmuid O'Murchu

Jesse : Stranger Angels - Part 3

Jesse : Stranger Angels - Part 4

The Paranormal Memoirs

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Okay, so this episode is a part 2 - it’s a continuation of last week's episode called - you guessed it - Stranger Angels part one. If you haven’t heard the story about my weird European stalker who looked like a mannequin, then go ahead and hit pause right now

I promise it will make this sequel a lot more satisfying if you go listen to that episode first.

Part one is Episode 8.

Jesse was the first person to suggest to me that some of these benevolent strangers we encounter are not even human, but incarnated guardians.

Although I had experiences as a kid that involved angel sightings, spirit guides, spirit animals, ghosts, elementals ... I would never have included that man John, who had followed me around on my trip to Europe, in a similar kind of paranormal category. Over the years, I even found myself relating the story of the almost-mugging — and, for some reason, excluding the part about John entirely.

Until my conversations with Jesse, I would have lumped these strangers into quirky, environmental synchronicities.

Let me explain what I mean by environmental synchronicity — I’m talking about these patterns I observe that seem to emerge from random chaos, and feel somehow “less personal” — just glitches or glimpses of cosmic machinery at work that don’t feel “targeted” toward me in a significant, meaningful way.

I’ll give you a couple of recent examples:

A few months ago, just before Christmas, I was standing in the checkout line at the supermarket behind some random stranger. Nothing noteworthy about that, except that, the very next day, in a completely different part of the city, I was waiting to place an order at the cafe, and the same person got in line behind me. Never saw him before; never saw him again after…

Another example of this kind of environmental synchronicity...

Last month, I was out running errands. I stopped to get gas and a car pulled up at the pump next to mine. I noticed it because it was the exact same make, model, year, and color as my own car. (You always notice when you see “your” car on the road, right?) So, I went all over town that day — the bank, the post office, the bookstore, the cafe, and eventually, a few hours later, criss-crossed my way to an enormous shopping mall in an area of the burbs I generally avoid and only visit about once a year if I absolutely have to — I needed to exchange a gift. I found a group of empty parking spaces and pulled into one. As I was getting my bag out of the trunk, a car pulled into the space next to mine — same make, model, year, and color - AND - it was that same exact car and driver from earlier in the day.

In that asphalt sea of parking options, not to mention in a medium-size city — we’re talking about a quarter of a million people -- what are the chances?

So, these are not Big Deal experiences, right? — just things that make you go “Hmm… What was that all about it?” Never saw them before; never saw them after. I suppose it’s some fairly irrelevant mathematical remainder in the clockwork of divine timing.

Anyway, that’s the kind of compartment in my mind where I might have placed the story about John the European mannequin stalker, just tagged with a greater-than-average significance and a Big Mystery stamp…

At least, that’s how I thought of it before I met Jesse.

…My name is Slade Roberson

For over ten years, I’ve been a professional intuitive and the author of the blog Shift Your Spirits, where I try to write about spirituality with fewer hearts and flowers than most New Age blather.

I also mentor emerging intuitives, psychics, and healers in a program called Automatic Intuition.

Before we go any further, just a quick FYI — I’ve added a new feature to the show.

For years now, before I send out a blog post, I try to tune in and listen for something that will speak directly to you, that will serve as a message. Like an oracle.

And I get email replies, every week, with tons of you saying that the post was a direct answer to a question you had.

It’s really cool, and I want to bring that phenomenon to the podcast…

At the very end of this episode, after my final links and credits, I have a channeled message for you.

Be thinking about a question or concern you have. It might be answered by the show itself. But hold it in your mind and I’ll come back on at the end and leave you with something extra…

Back to the story...

I met Jesse in 2002, exactly ten years after that trip to Europe. I was thirty-two years old. I had lived through a really shitty (shittier-than-most) Saturn Return that nuked all the structure in my world and left me in a ditch that I would spend most of my thirties crawling out of. At the time, I was recovering from a serious illness and working on rebuilding the basics of third-dimensional existence — you know: job, place to live — I had no way of knowing that I was about a year away from a major Trip Down the Rabbit Hole that would deliver me to some different level of identity and I suppose a reorientation to my spiritual path — events that climaxed with an intervention by my guides, an ultimatum regarding my sense of purpose, and ultimately the creation of Shift Your Spirits and the work for which you know me.

Back in 2002, I was not operating from even so much as the intention of a “higher vibration” — I was just surviving. (Barely.)

I was working in Chattanooga (where I grew up) at a temporary, low-paying job while searching for a full-time position with benefits, preferably in a counseling environment, where I could also work toward my Master’s degree. I decided I wanted to move back out of state, to Atlanta, a larger city where I had lived before and where there were more opportunities. Fortunately, my temporary job gave me Mondays off, so I could arrange to do interviews on at least that one weekday, and travel down on the Sundays before.

All the back-and-forth was expensive; gas eating up most of my funds. The weeks of job hunting were turning into months. Many of my friends and contacts in Atlanta had moved away; even more of them were estranged. I had one friend from college who was generous with her hospitality, who I felt I could impose on to some degree, but I was going to rely on her heavily for a place to stay at a longer duration of time once I’d actually secured a position and could then start that second stage of relocating to a place of my own.

I’d already worn out my welcome with more than one person. I told everyone, including my parents, that I was spending those Sunday nights in motels; more often than not, armed with pre-ironed interview clothes, a lint-roller, resumes, and my cell phone, I slept in my car so I’d have enough gas money to return home. (I could sometimes simply get up before dawn in Chattanooga and drive down but the morning rush hours and unpredictable gridlock of getting into Atlanta on Monday mornings was way more stressful and difficult to effectively schedule.)

I passed most of those earlier Sunday evening hours killing time hanging out in cafes. I tend to haunt cafes — I’ve discovered more than one magical vortex in a favorite cafe. If I decided to plot them on a map I wouldn’t be surprised to discover evidence of ley lines or some personal power nexus.

I met Jesse at the Starbucks in Ansley. He politely asked if I minded if he sat in a leather armchair next to mine that shared the small table between them. He was dressed in scrubs; maybe a surgeon, probably a nurse. He was handsome in a bland, super clean-cut way — he obviously had some seriously Nordic DNA that results in superior height, blond hair, blue eyes, and an airbrushed complexion. I remember thinking he looked less like a nurse than a model for a medical uniforms catalogue, or maybe an extra in a hospital scene on a TV show.

I don’t remember how we initially began chatting, but the conversation started over the books we were reading. I was reading Jung and Tarot; he was reading Conscious Evolution by Barbara Marx Hubbard.

(Which I just realized saying that, I told Amy Oscar, who I interviewed in episode 4 of this podcast, that listening to her reminded me of listening to Barbara Marx Hubbard.

Anyway

Jesse talked at great length about the concepts of Hubbard’s work — he was a bit dull and emotionless in his delivery, professorial, but the information itself was interesting and he seemed intent on instructing me about it.

He eventually asked me what “my story” was, and I told him about my process of finding work and relocating.

Pointing to my book he said : “You’re inhabiting the Wanderer archetype.”

I was like “Ah, yes, or you could just call me a Fool, as the Tarot would.”

He shrugged and kindly said “It's the beginning of all Journeys."

When the baristas began to make the obvious motions of closing the cafe, Jesse asked me where I was staying. I told him truthfully that I wasn’t sure yet, but I lied and said I was going to go find a cheap motel — and I mentioned a notoriously shady possibility nearby.

He looked troubled by this and was like. “No, no no. I live alone, really close to here, just blocks from the University where you’re going for your interview. I have a guest room, I’m not working tomorrow, and I insist you come stay with me.”

I was not looking forward to finding a safe place to sleep in my car, and after going through the motions of being assured that the invitation was sincere, not just a friendly but empty offer, I accepted with grateful relief.

JESSE’S HOUSE

So, I was supposed to follow his car to his place, but he also gave me back-up directions in case we were separated, not an address but like simplified landmark-syle — The house was on Woodland Hills, the first driveway on the left after the last speed bump as you approach the traffic light at the end of the street.

Jesse drove some vaguely forgettable car — something white, fairly late model, like a Ford Taurus — it looked like a rental.

I’d probably driven past his house thousands of times over the years.

When he stooped to go in through the back door into his kitchen, I realized for the first time just freaking how tall he was.

The strangest thing about Jesse’s house was that it was almost entirely empty — there were no appliances except a coffee maker, nothing but water and milk and a bag of coffee in the refrigerator, paper plates and plastic cups in the cabinets; there was nothing but a lonely chandelier in the dining room; two leather armchairs, a large television and a lamp, both sitting on the floor in the living room; there was no art work on the walls; blinds were the only window treatments; in one bedroom there was a mattress and an alarm clock on the floor, an open closet with a row of scrubs and a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts; the bathroom had a toothbrush, toothpaste, a razor, and shaving cream in the medicine cabinet, a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo in the shower…

It looked like