The Beginning by Bonnie Corso

***image1*** It finally felt like spring, that Saturday morning in April, 1977. All the snow had melted from the Milwaukee streets leaving puddles here and there, as if winter insisted upon having one last word before slithering away in defeat. In the front yard, tiny tips of yellow gladiolii peeked bravely through soil which had been frozen for nearly six months. At the time, I was working for a small radio station, where my official title was ‘Public Service Director’. That meant I did the weekly on-air public affairs interview show. It also meant, since I was the only woman at the station, that I answered the phone, kept the books, made the coffee, and did everyone’s typing. I never questioned it. That’s just how things were in Milwaukee in those days.

I was looking forward to spending a lazy Saturday at home — a little cooking, a little cleaning, some reading, a leisurely walk with my beagle Peppi, maybe even the luxury of an afternoon nap.

There was absolutely no sign that my world was about to change forever, and that my life would never be the same again.

It started as gently and innocently as the April breeze blowing through my open window. I was vacuuming the living room rug, while Peppi eyed me intently from the couch, waiting for me to make a move toward her leash hanging on the hall closet doorknob. Thoughts about work were floating around in my mind. The station owner wanted me to fly to Washington to attend the National Association of Broadcasters convention. Senator William Proxmire, Wisconsin’s favorite son, had promised us an interview. I had never flown before, and was trying to talk myself into not being afraid. And there it was, as natural as a breath, a voice in my head saying “Don’t worry. All will be well.”

I didn’t think much about it as I turned off the vacuum cleaner. It was probably just my own voice reassuring me that everything would turn out all right. But then the voice spoke again, a little longer this time. And no mistake about it, it was a male voice! To my amazement, I wasn’t frightened. The voice was gentle, and not a bit scary.

I said out loud, “You’re not me, are you.”

The voice in my head answered, “No, child.”

Child! I liked that. No one had ever called me child, even when I was a child.

“Where are you?” I asked, still speaking out loud.

“Here.” His voice was clear as a bell inside my head.

“Here where?” I said.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m here!” He knew perfectly well where I was. Wasn’t he was the one who started the conversation in the first place?

“I’m also here,” he said. “In my here. We co-exist.”

In my mind’s eye, I saw his “here” for a brief instant — indescribably beautiful and filled with light which actually seemed…well…alive. “Are you an angel?” I asked, trying to picture a luminous golden-haired being with a halo.

“No, child. I’m not an angel. Think of me as your teacher who is sent by your Creator. I will be with you through the rest of your life.”

“My Creator?” I asked. “You mean there really IS a God?” Although I had been born and raised a Jew, our family wasn’t very religious. It was more about belonging to an ethnicity and a culture rather than observing religious traditions.

“God is not an individual,” the Teacher answered. Immediately, a vision of a huge fountain of light flooded into my mind. It almost looked like a cosmic firecracker, giving off billions of sparks. An intense feeling of love washed over me.

“The source of this Light is that which you call ‘God’,” he continued, “and the sparks are all of you. There is a spark of the Divine Creator in everyone and everything that lives — a spark of Infinite Love, for that is truly what God is. Pure and perfect love.”

The answer was simple — the kind which might be given to a child. But in matters of spirit, I was a child. This was all brand new territory to me.

I wondered if something had gone screwy in my brain. After all, here I was having a conversation with a male voice inside my head, who’s telling me he’d be with me for the rest of my life! It had to be some sort of mental breakdown. But why? How? What brought it on? The turbulent marriage years were finally over, my job was tolerable, and all things considered, I was managing my life quite nicely, thank you. And yet, even though I was sure that only crazy people heard voices, there was something comforting and loving about this “teacher in my head.” I wanted to hear more.

By this time, I was sitting on the couch. Peppi was next to me with her head on my thigh, in her favorite “Pet me, please” position. My fingers wandered through the soft fur on her neck.

I asked another question. “Can you tell me things about my life?”


“Will I ever have a baby?”

“No, child,” he answered.

Perhaps it was the sympathy and love in his voice, or perhaps in my deepest heart, I already knew it was the truth. But whatever it was, I believed him. Tears filled my eyes. All my life, I had longed for a child. “But why not?” I said, as the tears rolled down my cheeks. “I know I’d be a good mother!”

He summed it up in one sentence. “No soul is assigned to be the child of your body this time.”

“Our children are ‘assignments’?” I asked.

“Most definitely. You have many children assigned to you this time, but none of your body.”

“What do you mean, ‘this time’?” I asked. I’d never really thought seriously about reincarnation. To me, it was more of a cliché, like I bet we knew each other in a past life type of thing.

The Teacher explained how the soul, the Divine Spark within each of us, is eternal, traveling from incarnation to incarnation, learning, developing, striving toward perfection more and more with each earth experience.

“How many lifetimes does it take before we don’t have to come back any more?”

His voice was patient and gentle. “Sometimes it takes many, many incarnations. It all depends on the choices made by each individual.” In my mind’s eye, I saw image of a jigsaw puzzle. The bottom half was a pastoral landscape, and the top half was all clouds and sky. It was complete, except that one small piece of blue sky was missing.

“See the puzzle?” he asked.


“Think of this puzzle as the entire picture of your soul. All the pieces are necessary to make it whole and complete. Some pieces appear to be more significant toward shaping the final picture, and others appear to be merely clouds and sky. But every single piece is necessary and important toward completing the whole. What do you think about the one missing piece of sky?”

“Well, no matter what the picture is, my eye immediately goes to the place where the piece is missing.”

“Exactly! And that’s how to view the development of the soul. Some incarnations might appear to be more ‘significant’ than others; yet every single piece of the puzzle is essential to completing the final picture of you! None of the pieces is either more or less important.”

“What happens when the puzzle is complete?” I asked.

“Then your soul becomes one with the Infinite Light, just as a drop of rain becomes one with the ocean. Think of the fountain of Light you saw before. Your little spark then joins with the whole, thus expanding the Infinite Love and Light of the Universe. But you never lose your conscious awareness of ‘self’. You’ll always still be you.”

I asked many more questions that day, and every single day since. Needless to say, I quickly learned that it wasn’t a mental aberration, but that I was actually receiving instruction and guidance from an extraordinary Teacher in the world of spirit.

After a while, when I had come to love and honor the spiritual work which had become the priority of my life, I said to the Teacher: “I’d like to offer up my will to God.”

“No, child!” He was emphatic. “Free will is God’s gift to you! Don’t give it back! Instead, use it to do God’s work in the world.” So be it.

To his credit, the Teacher has now put up with me for more than a quarter of a century. Over the years, I’ve found him to be wise beyond wisdom, unconditionally loving, infinitely patient (most of the time), and believe it or not, outrageously funny. They have a great sense of humor on the other side!

By the way, even after two decades, Peppi still visits me once a week from spirit. It’s nice to know she’s there waiting for me.

by Bonnie Corso