I am grateful for my guardian angels.  These are not cherubic babes with wings and harps on clouds, but scrappy, fierce protectors alert of my blind spots and ‘heaven-may-care’ enthusiasm for adventure.  My partner jokes that God drew us to one another on the urgings of our respective guardian teams—mine calling in for a leave of absence, his antsy for a bit more spice and risk in life.


My awareness of these protective agents has always been highest when I am adventuring abroad.  Much of my exploring has been solitary; and while I met many delightful people along the way, I rarely had travel partners.  Despite my isolation—or maybe because of it—I encountered a profound sense of Protective Spirit throughout my journeys, especially in moments of uncertainty and risk.  As an experienced traveler, I do not take these moments lightly; and the sense of protection I consistently encountered brings an enveloping sense of gratitude for those holding me in the Light each time I left home.


It has been awhile since I have traveled far from home alone; and this past summer presented the opportunity to be grateful for traveling mercies in the everyday.  I had been commuting by bicycle several times a week, relying on my trusty tank-of-a-steel-frame to carry me 60-80 miles each week.  I felt a renewed sense of vitality in the physical and mental challenge, as well as a sense of peace in the transition offered by this mode of transit.


The morning broke crisp and clear— a gorgeous day for an early morning ride.  I was off and cruising, mentally logging the miles ahead and enjoying the early sun at my back.  As I approached a traffic signal, my eyes caught movement on the left— jarring me to reactive alertness.  I made eye contact with the driver of the Jeep as the collision unfolded.


I have been hit by a car before (did I mention my guardian protectors have petitioned for a transfer?).  Previous experiences included a sense of disconnected observation, slow-motion travel through space and time without the accompaniment of surrounding noise or ancillary participants.  This time was different.  I am on the ground, beneath the bumper in an instant— the sense of slowed time is present, but my brain can only process one layer of information at a time—a) the car is not moving … b) my head hurts … c) the driver has opened the door as a bystander runs toward me … d) I am okay … it is going to be okay—thank you, Spirit Force, for your protection and presence.


The Healing Process is iterative, and always takes longer than I want.  I have received the all-clear to ride my bicycle outside again, but am giving myself permission to wait until the cherry blossoms return—either that, or I find a large hamster ball within which to ride around.  My partner and guardian angels are all pushing for the second option.

—Melissa Baker