by Lee Carroll
The
Journey
Home
BOOKS AND AUDIOS FROM KRYON
by Lee Carroll
BOOKS
An Indigo Celebration, by Lee Carroll and Jan Tober*
Kryon Book One: The End Times
Kryon Book Two: Don’t Think Like a Human
Kryon Book Three: Alchemy of the Human Spirit
Kryon Book Four: The Parables of Kryon*
Kryon Book Five: The Journey Home*
Kryon Book Six: Partnering with God
Kryon Book Seven: Letters from Home
Kryon Book Eight: Passing the Marker
AUDIO BOOKS
The End Times
Don’t Think Like a Human
Alchemy of the Human Spirit
The Parables of Kryon*
The Journey Home*
AUDIOS
Earth Changes...Your Wake-Up Call
Past Lives, Present Fears
Changes Within You
Honoring the Only Planet of Choice
Ascension in the New Age
Nine Ways to Raise the Planet’s Vibration
Gifts and Tools of the New Age
Co-Creation in the New Age
Seven Responsibilities of the New Age
MUSIC AND MEDITATION
Crystal Singer Music Meditation Tape
Guided Meditations
All of the above are available at your local bookstore, or may be ordered by visiting: Hay House USA: www.hayhouse.com®; Hay House Australia: www.hayhouse.com.au; Hay House UK: www.hayhouse.co.uk; Hay House South Africa: www.hayhouse.co.za; Hay House India: www.hayhouse.co.in
The
Journey
Home
—A Kryon Parable —
The Story of Michael Thomas
and the Seven Angels
LEE CARROLL
HAY HOUSE, INC.
Carlsbad, California • New York City
London • Sydney • Johannesburg
Vancouver • Hong Kong • New Delhi
Copyright © 1997 by Lee Carroll
Published and distributed in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com • Published and distributed in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au • Published and distributed in the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk • Published and distributed in the Republic of South Africa by: Hay House SA (Pty), Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.za • Distributed in Canada by: Raincoast: www.raincoast.com • Published in India by: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.co.in
Designed by: Christy Salinas
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording, nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private use—other than for “fair use” as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews without prior written permission of the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kryon (Spirit)
The journey home : the story of Michael Thomas and the seven angels / Kryon ; [channeled through Lee Carroll].
p. cm.
ISBN 1-56170-552-7 (tradepaper)
1. Spirit writings. I. Carroll, Lee. II. Title.
PS3561.R877J6 1997
133.9’3—dc21 97-28197
CIP
ISBN 13: 978-1-56170-552-8
ISBN 10: 1-56170-552-7
11 10 09 08 16 15 14 13
1st printing, September 1997
13th printing, August 2008
Printed in the United States of America
Dedicated to those who have realized
that a human has the power to change his or her life,
and that things are not always as they seem!
CONTENTS
Who Is Kryon?
Introduction
CHAPTER ONE: Michael Thomas
CHAPTER TWO: The Vision
CHAPTER THREE: Preparation
CHAPTER FOUR: The First House
CHAPTER FIVE: The Second House
CHAPTER SIX: The Great Storm
CHAPTER SEVEN: The Third House
CHAPTER EIGHT: The Fourth House
CHAPTER NINE: The Fifth House
CHAPTER TEN: The Sixth House
CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Seventh House
CHAPTER TWELVE: Through the Door to Home
Afterword—Author’s Notes and Study Questions
About the Author
WHO IS KRYON?
Kryon is a gentle, loving entity who is currently on the earth to help us move into the high energy of what we call our “new age.” Kryon’s words have changed lives and brought love and light into some of the darkest places of our inner being. The storyline for THE JOURNEY HOME was inspired by Kryon and written by Lee Carroll.
INTRODUCTION
On December 8, 1996, Kryon sat before more than 500 people in Laguna Hills, California, at the close of an afternoon seminar. In a storytelling session that lasted over an hour, the journey of Michael Thomas was presented—a trek borne of the desire of an earth-weary human to join his spiritual family and go “home.”
The very name Michael Thomas represents the incredibly sacred and holy attributes of The Archangel Michael, and also the old energy properties of Thomas the Doubter. This combination represents many of us who feel we are spiritual beings, but often doubt our abilities to move forward into a new millennium that has increasing spiritual demands or fear-based challenges.
Michael’s journey home slowly reveals an adventure through seven colorful houses, each occupied by a Grand Angel. Each house represents an attribute of the New Age and carries with it wisdom, teaching, humor, and insight into what it is God wants us to know about ourselves. We also get a glimpse of the way things work as we move through the new paradigm of our New Age.
Progressing to a moving and surprising end, Michael Thomas’s journey reveals to humans a package of loving instructions coming from a spiritual source that constantly desires to “wash our feet.”
If you have ever asked God, “What is it you want me to know?”— THIS MAY BE IT! Join Michael Thomas in his exciting journey. It may remind you of your own.
CHAPTER ONE
Michael Thomas
The black plastic pieces flew in all directions as Mike pushed his “in box” a bit too hard against the cubicle wall of his sales office. It was another instance where an inanimate object bore the brunt of Mike’s growing anger at his situation. Suddenly, a head popped up through the dusty leaves of a plastic plant to his left.
“Everything okay over there?” asked John from the next cubicle.
The walls of each cubicle were just high enough to allow a person to pretend he had an office of his own. Mike had placed several tall items on his desk. This had the effect of hiding the fact that his co-workers were only about four feet from him at all times—all of them sharing in the pretense that they were alone in their spaces, having “private” conversations. The glow of white fluorescent light from the myriad naked fixtures above the cubicles bathed Mike and his peers in the kind of false illumination only found in institutions and industry. It seemed to absorb all the red in the visual spectrum, turning everyone pale, even though they lived in sun-drenched California. Years without direct sunlight made Mike seem doubly pale.
“Nothing that a trip to the Bahamas wouldn’t cure,” replied Mike without looking at the plant that had John’s head showing through it. John shrugged and returned to his phone conversation.
Even as the words escaped his mouth, Mike knew that he would never see the Bahamas on the salary of an order taker working in the “coal mine,” as the employees called the sales fa
ctory they worked for. He started picking up pieces of the plastic tray that he had shattered, and he sighed—something he found himself doing a lot lately. What was he here for? Why didn’t he have the energy or the incentive to make his life better? His gaze took in the dumb-looking stuffed bear that he had bought himself. It said, “Hug me.” Next to it was his favorite Far Side cartoon—something about the “bluebird of happiness” escaping Ned, the cartoon character; instead he was being visited by the “chicken of depression.”
It didn’t matter how many smiling faces or cartoons he tacked up on the cubicle walls. Mike still felt stuck. He was glued to an existence that resembled the workings of an office copy machine—each day duplicated over and over again without any purpose. The frustration and helplessness that he felt made him angry and depressed, and it was beginning to show. His supervisor had even mentioned it.
Michael Thomas was in his mid-thirties. Like many others in his office, he was in “survival mode.” It was the only job he could find where he didn’t have to care about what he did very much. He could simply disengage for eight hours a day, go home, sleep, try to pay his bills on the weekend, and go back to work again on Mondays. Mike realized that he only knew the names of four people in this Los Angeles office of over thirty individuals. He just didn’t care, and he had been at this for over a year—ever since the emotional breakup that had shattered his life forever. He never shared his memories with anyone, but they ran through his head almost nightly.
Mike lived alone, except for his solitary fish. He had wanted a cat, but the landlord wouldn’t allow it. He knew he was playing “victim,” but his self-esteem was at an all-time low, and he continued to massage the wound that was his life—purposefully keeping it open, hurt, and bleeding so he could recall it at will. There wasn’t anything else he felt he could do, and he wasn’t certain he had the energy to change things even if he had wanted to. He had named the fish “Cat” just for fun, and he would speak to it each time he came home or left for work.
“Keep the faith, Cat,” Mike would say to his finned friend on the way out. Of course, the fish never said anything in return.
Over six feet tall, Mike was somewhat imposing until he smiled. His grin carried with it a charm that melted all prejudgments anyone might have had upon seeing his large frame. It was not by chance that he found himself working on the phone where customers could not see him. Rather, it was a purposeful way of denying himself his best attribute—almost like a self-imposed prison, allowing him to wallow in the melodrama of his current situation. He excelled at people skills, but he seldom used them except when necessary at work. Mike did not cultivate friends willingly, and the opposite sex didn’t even exist for him in his current mind-set—although they would have liked to.
“Mike,” his male co-workers would say, “when is the last time you got lucky? You need to get out there and find a good woman—get your mind off your life!”
Then they would go home to their families, dogs, and loving children—and sometimes a fish, too. But Mike couldn’t fathom how to start the process of rebuilding his lost love life. It wasn’t worth it, he decided. I found my partner early, he would say to himself. Except that she didn’t know it. He had been very much in love, with all the expectations that go with it. She, on the other hand, had just been having fun. When that fact was finally brought home, it was as if Mike’s entire future had shriveled up and disappeared. He had loved her with a singular passion that he believed he would feel only once in his life. He had spent it all on her, but she had thrown it away.
Raised by his parents on a farm in the small town of Blue Earth, Minnesota, Mike escaped what he felt was a dead-end situation—that of growing crops that were either purchased by a foreign country or were stored indefinitely in large silos due to an overabundance of grain. Very early on, he knew that farming was not for him. It didn’t seem to be valued even by his own country. What good was it? Besides, he couldn’t stand the smell of it all, and he wanted to work with people instead of animals or tractors. He did well in school and was absolutely stellar in anything that involved interaction with others. Ending up in sales was a natural for Mike, and he had no problem at all finding good jobs selling a multitude of products and services he could represent with honesty. People loved to buy things from Michael Thomas.
When he looked back at what his now-deceased parents had given him, he realized that the one thing that had “stuck” was his belief in God. A lot of good it was doing right now, he often thought bitterly. Mike was an only child, and his parents—his beloved mom and dad—had been killed in a car accident just before his 21st birthday. He still mourned them greatly and always kept photos around to remind him of their lives—and deaths. Through everything, even now, Mike kept going to church and at least went through the motions of worship. When asked about his spiritual health by the minister, Mike openly admitted his faith and the belief in his spiritual nature. He was certain that God was just and loving, but not really in his corner at the moment—or even for the last few years for that matter. Mike often prayed for a better situation, but he had little optimism that things would really change.
With the ruddy complexion of his father, Mike was not really handsome, but attractive in a rugged sort of way. Women found him irresistible. His flashing smile, blond hair, tall frame, square jaw, and deep blue eyes were captivating. Those who had good intuition also knew that Mike was a man of integrity, and they trusted him almost instantly. He’d had many opportunities to take inappropriate advantage of situations—both in business and in romance—but he’d never done so. Mike was a product of farm consciousness—one of the only valuable attributes that followed him from the cold country of his upbringing.
He couldn’t lie. He understood intuitively when others needed assistance. He opened doors for people coming into and out of the supermarket, respected and spoke to elders, and always gave the down-and- out men and women in the street the dollar bills they asked for, even if he suspected it might be wasted on alcohol. He felt that everyone should work together to make things better, and he never understood why people didn’t speak to each other in his adopted town or seldom even met their own neighbors. Perhaps it was because the weather was so nice that people never needed help. How ironic, he thought.
Mike’s only female role model was his mom; therefore, he treated all women with the kind of respect he had known for the wonderful, sensitive woman whom he missed greatly. Part of his misery now was the seeming betrayal of this respect in the only “real” relationship he had ever had. Actually, Mike’s experience had only been a result of culture clash; what was expected from one person was not what was given, and vice versa. The California girl who had broken his heart was only following what she believed was her cultural truth about love, but Mike hadn’t seen it that way. He had been taught differently, and he didn’t have tolerance for other ideas about love.
AND SO IT IS that our story really begins. Here was Michael Thomas at his lowest ebb, coming home on a Friday night ready to greet his studio-style two-room apartment (two rooms that included the bath-room!). Mike had stopped at the store to pick up the meager groceries he needed to exist for the next few days. Long ago he had found that he could make his money go very far indeed if he bought the generic brands and used his coupons wisely. But his real key to frugality? Don’t eat much!
Mike purchased packaged items that didn’t need to be cooked. Then he didn’t have to use the stove or pay for the electricity. This practice left him unfulfilled, somewhat hungry, and always without a dessert to look forward to—which seemed to fit his self-imposed role of victim just fine. He also found that if he ate everything right from the package over the sink, he didn’t have to wash any dishes! He hated washing dishes and often bragged to John, his co-worker and only friend, about how he had solved the problem. Knowing Mike’s habits, John commented in jest that before long Mike might find a way to do everything—even going without an apartment—by living at the nearest homeless shelte
r. John had laughed and slapped Mike on the back when he said it. Mike, however, had actually considered it.
By the time Mike got home from the store, it was dark. A heavy mist had been trying to turn into rain most of the day and was still at it, turning everything slick and shiny in the artificial yellow rays of the streetlight reflected on the apartment steps. Glad to be living in Southern California, Mike often remembered the hardships of the winters in Minnesota where he had grown up.
All during his youth, he’d had a passion for anything from California. He swore to himself that he had to escape the punishment of weather that everyone else simply took for granted. Why would anyone choose to live where you could die in ten minutes from exposure? he would ask his mom. She would smile and just look at him, then say, “Families stay where their roots are, you know.Besides, it’s safe here.” That was her familiar sermon about how dangerous Los Angeles was and how nice Minnesota was. That only made sense if you didn’t add death by freezing! Mike couldn’t convince her that the danger of earthquakes was like a lottery. It might happen in your lifetime—and it might not. Grueling Minnesota winters, however, were the norm every year—a cyclical occurrence that you could absolutely count on!
