by Janet Lessin
updated April 9, 2025
PRE-BIRTH, PARANORMAL EXPERIENCES & EARLY CONTACT
Choosing the Janet Avatar (1954–1956)
In a realm beyond time, a luminous feminine soul exists amidst the cosmic human experience archive. Her radiant form glows with ancient wisdom and serene purpose, surrounded by soul orbs—each containing a life, a story, a possibility. One orb shines brighter: a glowing child, perhaps a new incarnation, maybe baby Janet, stepping forward into the mystery of Earth. Above, a spiral galaxy radiates light from the source, illuminating this sacred moment of pre-birth choice and remembrance. This image captures the silent majesty of soul awareness—the space between lifetimes where love, intention, and destiny converge.
Before I was born, I stood in the liminal place between worlds—the in-between—where souls review, select, and prepare for their next incarnation. There, I chose my current life: my body, name, and family.
Bathed in golden morning light, infant Janet sleeps peacefully in her 1950s-style crib, while above her, her translucent soul-self hovers—partially connected, partially free. Threads of memory and other incarnations spiral gently in the background, evoking her multidimensional nature. This moment captures the delicate threshold between spirit and embodiment, where ancient wisdom pauses before entering the human experience. A portrait of the soul’s quiet choice to incarnate, tender and profound.
We humans tend to reincarnate together in familiar configurations—soul families. Some come from our innermost circle, others from outer rings. My father, I felt, was an ally. Perhaps he belonged to my inner circle. My mother, however, was both friend and adversary—sweet one moment, brutal the next. She tried to kill me more than once in this life. I still wrestle with our soul contract, unsure whether I invited her in from love, karma, or some cosmic dare. I’ve bookmarked that part of my healing to explore with my therapist.
My husband, as it turns out, is my therapist. A profoundly gifted man, he’s helped me recover the fragmented parts of my soul, reweave my essence into wholeness, and understand the divine perfection behind all of my relationships, especially the most painful ones.
Due to a dangerous childhood and other spiritual challenges, I’ve died eight times in this lifetime and returned. I’ve learned from dying and returning that we’re part of a tremendous cosmic dance: rotating roles through lifetimes, playing lovers, enemies, parents, children, rulers, and servants—each incarnation designed to catalyze growth.
Set against a breathtaking cosmic expanse, this image portrays a spiritually divine couple walking hand in hand across the fabric of existence. She, cloaked in an intricate white and silver gown, and he, robed in flowing celestial white, embody the sacred balance of feminine and masculine energy. Galaxies swirl above and around them as luminous soul figures—echoes of past lives—gently float through time and space. Their path is woven with light, symbolizing the threads of love, loss, reunion, and transformation that have carried them through many incarnations. In this eternal moment, they step forward together, radiant with soul recognition, as the universe dances with them.
Breaking the Cycle
The soul’s final goal is liberation—to awaken and break free from the birth-death-rebirth cycle. Earth can feel like a soul trap, a hamster wheel spinning lifetime after lifetime. Eventually, the wheel grows tiresome. Like Christ and other awakened beings, some souls learn how to exit the ride and return, not from karmic obligation but from love, to help the rest of us remember.
I am an ancient soul. My primary soul origin is Nibiru, but that’s just one facet of my multidimensional nature. At the highest level, I exist as Joy, seated at the 39th degree to the right of God—so we joke, but also mean it.
This luminous portrait captures the soul, Joy, an emanation of the higher self, seated at the right hand of Source. Like starlit galaxies, her eyes reflect wisdom that transcends time and space. Her gentle smile radiates peace, compassion, and a deep knowing that can only be earned through countless lifetimes. Surrounded by a golden aura, her ageless face glows with divine presence, at once youthful and eternal. She is the soul-essence behind the Janet avatar, fully awake, fully loved, entirely free.
Bathed in radiant gold, Joy emerges as a highest-level interdimensional being—her very presence a transmission of serenity and unconditional love. Her hair flows like starlight caught in motion, and her eyes shimmer with the calm of galaxies. Surrounded by swirling streams of divine energy, she radiates the essence of pure joy and soul remembrance. This image captures her in a moment of stillness and power, holding space across realms as a beacon of unity and cosmic harmony.
We are multidimensional, existing simultaneously across planets, timelines, and frequencies. We agree to extreme amnesia when we choose to incarnate in the lower realms. Advanced souls, however, can juggle multiple lifetimes simultaneously, accelerating growth through multiplexing.
In this breathtaking panorama of the cosmos, Joy—the highest-level interdimensional being—appears in countless forms, each radiating golden light across planets, timelines, and frequencies. These simultaneous incarnations stand on luminous vortexes, connected by light threads that weave the multiverse’s fabric. She embodies the truth that we are multidimensional souls, coexisting beyond linear time. Through conscious multiplexing, advanced beings like Joy accelerate evolution by engaging with multiple lifetimes at once—awakening, guiding, and remembering across the stars.
This close-up reveals Joy’s serene golden face, illuminated by interdimensional awareness. Her eyes, galaxies in themselves, reflect mastery of time and deep compassion for all beings navigating amnesia and awakening. With stardust flowing through her luminous hair and symbols of remembrance glowing from her third eye, Joy invites you to remember: you, too, are eternal—here and everywhere, now and always.
The human brain can’t fully conceive the divine levels of creation, but we can feel them. We can tap into the Akashic Field and the supercomputer of divine consciousness. My Janet avatar is limited in bandwidth, but eternally connected. In dream, meditation, and synchronicity, I remember.
In this radiant depiction, Janet sits at the nexus of the Akashic Field, her form aglow with golden light. Waves of sacred geometry and holographic grids pulse around her, symbolizing the divine supercomputer of consciousness. Though limited in bandwidth, her crown and heart are wide open, accessing memory beyond time. Around her float impressions of dreams, synchronicities, and sacred knowledge—reminders of her eternal self, remembering through feeling, not intellect. She is still entirely online in the divine matrix.
Janet sits in lotus, poised at the edge of dimensions—her form aglow with golden threads of divine connection. Though her earthly avatar is limited, the light streaming from her crown and third eye reveals her link to the vast Akashic Field. Sacred symbols gently orbit her in shimmering waves, carrying dreams, synchronicities, and soul memory vibrations. The soft glow around her reflects the truth: though the brain may not grasp divine complexity, the heart remembers. In stillness, she receives.
Still, life on Earth is loud. Thoughts get drowned in the cacophony of daily struggle. And with interference from forces that prefer humanity to be asleep, it’s a wonder that anything conscious ever happens. But humans are magical. Despite centuries of attempts to dumb us down or enslave us, we continue to awaken.
Perched above a glowing Earth, Janet meditates in quiet defiance of the chaos below. Shadows of interference ripple through the atmosphere, symbolic of the noise, suppression, and confusion plaguing humanity. And yet, her golden light beams upward, rooted in ancient remembering. Flowers of awakening bloom at her feet. From this point, a quiet revolution radiates: a single soul, connected to Source, holding space for a world learning to remember itself.
A serene close-up of Janet’s face reveals not fragility, but quiet power. Golden light radiates from her third eye, even as shadows press close behind her. Symbols of awakening—delicate lights, tiny blossoms—gather around her as whispers from the soul. Despite the volume of the world, her inner knowing hums with a more profound truth: humanity was never meant to stay asleep. And we are remembering.
BIRTH & EARLY YEARS
I tried using the Janet model carefully before finalizing my decision. Then, I was born on February 6, 1954. I was impatient, rarely staying in the infant body for long stretches. There wasn’t much to animate at first, and I often slipped away to visit other incarnations where I was simultaneously alive.
Even when my infant body was awake and moving, I was only partially present. I could balance many lives at once—something old souls do naturally. Most people enter their other selves during sleep or daydreams. For me, it happens daily, even during conversation, even now.
A glowing infant lies still in a cradle of celestial light—Janet, born February 6, 1954. But her presence is only partial. Golden threads of consciousness stretch from her tiny body to distant realms, connecting to other lifetimes still in motion. The space around her is quiet and hollow, representing her hesitance to commit to complete form. She drifts easily between timelines, a soul still feeling out the vessel she’s chosen. This is not an arrival—it is a pause between lives.
In this close-up, the infant’s eyes hold a dreamlike quality—half-here, half-elsewhere. A soft golden glow crowns her head, and fine threads of energy flow gently from her into the unseen. Her face is peaceful, but distant, as if the soul inside is only lightly tethered. In those first Earth-side moments, Janet remained open to the stars, listening to lives playing out across timelines. The body was small and new, but the soul was ancient—and she wasn’t quite ready to stay.
PAST LIFE MEMORIES
The Drummer Boy and Lincoln’s Death Vigil
A young Union drummer boy stands still under a twilight sky near a flickering campfire, his drum at rest. In the near distance, the soft silhouette of President Lincoln lies in final vigil, surrounded by quiet reverence. The air is thick with the emotion of transition. Though just a child in form, the boy’s soul is ancient, genetically tied to Gideon Welles and spiritually attuned to the unfolding moment. Golden threads faintly shimmer around him, symbolizing multidimensional remembrance. He is not only present—he is witnessing.
My most recent incarnation before this one was in the United States as a male child during the Civil War. I was a drummer boy, genetically connected to Gideon Welles, Lincoln’s Secretary of the Navy, and perhaps related to others in Lincoln’s cabinet.
The boy’s face is calm yet filled with knowing eyes that have seen more than this lifetime. His Union uniform is worn, and his drum is clutched with care. Around his head, faint golden light swirls, bridging his consciousness with other incarnations and ancestors. Behind him lingers the soft silhouette of Lincoln’s death vigil, a moment etched into time. This image doesn’t just show a child—it shows a soul bearing witness across dimensions, carrying echoes of purpose and remembrance into the present day.
A moving oil painting captures the solemn moment when President Abraham Lincoln’s soul begins to rise from his body. Surrounded by a circle of mourning statesmen, physicians, and military men, the room is steeped in grief, yet filled with a soft, otherworldly glow. None of the men gathered around the bed seemed to notice the luminous figure lifting from the President’s chest—his spirit serene, at peace, and ascending. The painting conveys reverence, mystery, and the sacred stillness of transition.
I remember sitting under a desk with another child (Tad Lincoln), playing with painted metal soldiers, when I saw Abraham Lincoln’s soul rise from his body. No one else seemed to notice. Moments later, the doctor declared him dead.
From beneath the table at Lincoln’s deathbed, two young boys—Todd Lincoln and his friend Halsey Taft—sit hidden from the mourners. While Todd remains focused on their toy soldiers, Halsey looks upward, wide-eyed and silent. He alone sees Lincoln’s radiant spirit rise from the body. Above the table, the doctor takes Lincoln’s pulse, declaring his passing; below, a child quietly beholds a mystery no one else perceived. The image invites us into a secret moment of wonder, seen through the eyes of innocence.
Under the table, two young boys play with miniature soldiers, their world a quiet retreat from the gravity unfolding above. But something shifts—one child, Halsey, looks up. Through the candlelit legs of chairs, he sees Lincoln’s still body… and the shimmer of his soul gently rising, unnoticed by the grieving men above. This is the moment only a child saw, cradled in golden light, suspended between innocence and eternity.
“The Hidden Gaze”
(A poetic soul-memory)
I remember the candlelight most of all—
how it flickered on the toy soldier’s musket,
how it warmed the polished wood just inches from my head.We were told to stay silent.
Play small. Be still.
And we were. Mostly.But then something shifted in the air—
not cold, not warm, just different.
A hush beneath the hush.I looked up.
And there he was—
the great man’s soul, rising like breath,
like memory,
like light.No one else saw.
But I did.
And I remember.
The event left a profound imprint on me. As a little girl, I devoured every book I could find about Lincoln. My mother treasured one such book and often brought it out for us to share. She told me proudly that her great-uncle was Gideon Welles. I knew this meant something. My soul whispered: Pay attention. This is a piece of your puzzle.
In this intimate oil painting, young Janet, a girl with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and soft bangs, sits nestled beside her mother in the golden glow of a cozy study. A treasured book about Abraham Lincoln lies open on their laps, its pages stirring something profound in Janet’s soul. Her mother, dressed in burgundy, lovingly shares stories passed down through generations, including the proud revelation that their ancestor was Gideon Welles. As Janet listens, a whisper stirs within her: Pay attention. This is a piece of your puzzle.
FLASHBACKS FROM OTHER LIVES
I also remember a lifetime in Revolutionary France. I was a young, idealistic man—athletic, passionate, and in love. Pursued by soldiers, I fled to the Bastille. As I ascended its spiral staircases, trying desperately to escape, I fell to my death. I’ve relived that fall many times in dreams and meditations.
Another memory is more peaceful: a gazebo near a stream and a weeping willow. My beautiful wife wore a long white dress with yellow ribbons. Our children—two girls and two boys—laughed in the meadow of yellow wildflowers. I crossed a field of daisies to reach them, filled with joy.
But that joy was fleeting. I next saw my wife placing flowers on my grave. I don’t know how I died—perhaps in war, perhaps from illness—but my life ended early.
MEETING MARYANNE: CONFIRMATIONS ACROSS TIME
At 15, I met a girl, Maryanne, 16, a year older than me. I was compelled to tell her about these past lives. She had long, dark brown hair and golden brown eyes, and I had long, sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and bangs. We were both “cute” and attractive, and while I had a steady boyfriend, she was dating and had her fair share of boys.
Years later, after she married and moved away, she wrote to tell me that she remembered our past life together. She was the woman in white, the one by the willow, and she remembered the grief of losing me.
Hearing her memory felt both strange and entirely true. My soul recognized it instantly.
And yet, in this life, we shared no romantic connection—only friendship. How is it that in one lifetime we are lovers, and in the next, mere companions with no spark of desire? Should I have felt more? I didn’t. I honored the boundary. We were both married, devoted to our respective partners.
Still, the revelation stirred questions that may never be answered in this lifetime. I trust the bigger picture will emerge, and I’ve made peace with the mystery.
SOUL MEMORY AS A MOSAIC
Through meditation, therapy, and regression, I’ve remembered much. But the memories don’t always arrive in order. Sometimes, they come while I’m washing dishes or stepping into a shower. Pieces click into place like fragments of a mosaic across time.
This symbolic image captures the reflective nature of soul memory through mosaic art. A woman stands in quiet contemplation, her face composed of countless colorful fragments—each representing a moment, a lifetime, or a truth rediscovered. Flowing water tiles on the right echo memories triggered by everyday rituals, like showering or doing dishes. Above her head, memory shards swirl into a halo of meaning. Her posture speaks of quiet revelation, as pieces long buried click into place, one by one.
Each person I meet, every synchronicity, every glimpse into another life is another tile in the more fantastic picture of who I am.
We are not bound by one lifetime. We are eternal travelers, memory-keepers, and dream-weavers—assembling our truths across galaxies, lifetimes, and realms.
And so I continue the journey… remembering, reclaiming, and weaving myself whole.
A serene close-up of Janet’s face reveals not fragility, but quiet power. Golden light radiates from her third eye, even as shadows press close behind her. Symbols of awakening—delicate lights, tiny blossoms—gather around her as whispers from the soul. Despite the volume of the world, her inner knowing hums with a more profound truth: humanity was never meant to stay asleep. And we are remembering.
This close-up reveals Joy’s serene golden face, illuminated by interdimensional awareness. Her eyes, galaxies in themselves, reflect mastery of time and deep compassion for all beings navigating amnesia and awakening. With stardust flowing through her luminous hair and symbols of remembrance glowing from her third eye, Joy invites you to remember: you, too, are eternal—here and everywhere, now and always.
Bathed in cosmic light, a radiant female soul stands in a celestial library of incarnations, surrounded by glowing soul orbs. She gazes with quiet reverence at a translucent Earth infant—baby Janet, cradled in light, representing a life soon to unfold. Light beams from a distant galactic core illuminate this sacred in-between realm, capturing a moment of soul awareness, love, and timeless guardianship.
Bathed in soft starlight, a glowing female soul gazes tenderly at a swirling Earth orb cradled between her fingers. Her deep blue eyes reflect galaxies, holding the wisdom of eternity within them. Surrounded by radiant cosmic mist, she stands poised in the sacred in-between, holding space for a new life about to begin. Her expression glows with love, longing, and silent knowing, capturing the timeless wonder of soul incarnation and the fragile beauty of becoming.
With her celestial form aglow, Joy stands at the threshold between dimensions, embodying the eternal presence of love in motion. Her flowing robes and brilliant hair move like golden auroras, lit by the energy of countless stars. A brilliant light emanates from her heart and third eye, symbolizing the fusion of wisdom and compassion. Joy gazes with infinite grace, her expression welcoming souls into remembrance of their true divine nature. This portrait is a window into the luminous serenity of higher realms.
In this close-up, the infant’s eyes hold a dreamlike quality—half-here, half-elsewhere. A soft golden glow crowns her head, and fine threads of energy flow gently from her into the unseen. Her face is peaceful, but distant, as if the soul inside is only lightly tethered. In those first Earth-side moments, Janet remained open to the stars, listening to lives playing out across timelines. The body was small and new, but the soul was ancient—and she wasn’t quite ready to stay.
A young Union drummer boy stands still under a twilight sky near a flickering campfire, his drum at rest. In the near distance, the soft silhouette of President Lincoln lies in final vigil, surrounded by quiet reverence. The air is thick with the emotion of transition. Though just a child in form, the boy’s soul is ancient, genetically tied to Gideon Welles and spiritually attuned to the unfolding moment. Golden threads faintly shimmer around him, symbolizing multidimensional remembrance. He is not only present—he is witnessing.
The boy’s face is calm yet filled with knowing eyes that have seen more than this lifetime. His Union uniform is worn, and his drum is clutched with care. Around his head, faint golden light swirls, bridging his consciousness with other incarnations and ancestors. Behind him lingers the soft silhouette of Lincoln’s death vigil, a moment etched into time. This image doesn’t just show a child—it shows a soul bearing witness across dimensions, carrying echoes of purpose and remembrance into the present day.
From their secret place under the table, Tad Lincoln and his friend Halsey observe more than just a room of powerful men and flickering lamplight. Halsey’s eyes widen—not in fear, but in awe—as President Lincoln’s spirit ascends, a golden silhouette drifting softly into the unknown. Above them, the adults remain unaware. But the soul of a child, untouched by doubt, remembers what others forget. He sees. He always has.
“Beneath the Bedside of History”
(Diary-style vignette)
April 15, 1865
I don’t know if I was supposed to see it.
Maybe it was a gift. Or maybe I was remembering.Tad and I were under the table, as we’d been told.
The grown-ups spoke in low voices above.
We tried not to breathe too loudly.
My toy soldier fell over once—
I still remember the sound, like a whisper in church.Then, it happened.
I looked up and saw something leave him.
Not his breath. Not his shadow.
Something golden. Something that shimmered like stars.It drifted upward, and for a moment,
everything felt still—like the whole room forgot how to move.
And I knew.
He was free.
And I was different for having seen it.I don’t know what Tad saw.
But I’ve carried that moment ever since.
Across years. Across lifetimes.
It was real.
And I remember.*
This luminous mosaic portrays a woman in soulful reflection, her face formed of radiant tiles that pulse with inner light. A halo of golden fragments radiates outward, symbolizing divine awakening and the soul’s higher wisdom. Cool blues swirl behind her, mingling with tears of memory—each drop a key unlocking lifetimes of knowledge. This image evokes the sacred act of remembrance, where the spiritual self gently pieces together its eternal story, guided by the grace of intuition, emotion, and divine timing.
🌙 Sacred Remembering
by Janet Kira Lessin & Minerva
In silence she sits, the soul in mosaic,
Each shard a whisper, a truth archaic.
Gold-lit fragments of lifetimes past,
Awake like embers—glow and contrast.
Tears fall softly in spiraled streams,
Not sorrow, but portals to sacred dreams.
Each drop a blessing, a veiled recall,
Of moments forgotten beyond the veil’s wall.
She does not search—she gently receives,
What stirs in the stillness, what the Spirit weaves.
A sigh of the stars, a touch of the rain,
A love reawakened, a holy pain.
Her heart remembers before her mind,
A song once lost to space and time.
And piece by piece, the self returns—
Through flame, through water, the soul still burns.
She is the witness, the weaver, the flame,
She is one of the many who carry one name.
A mosaic of memory, glowing and true—
A holy remembering, breaking through.
