The Star Soul

When I was a child, December was a world of light.
I grew up in Adams, Massachusetts—a town folded between mountains and memory, where winter came early and the stars always felt close.
My grandparents lived on Park Street, right in the center of town, in a towering house that seemed to watch over everything.
It was a tall, three-story home with a wide front porch and an attic that whispered with the hum of old winters.
Downstairs, my grandfather ran his TV and radio repair shop.
He was the one people came to when their picture tubes went dark or their radios fell silent.
The smell of solder and warm wires drifted through the floorboards, mixing with the scent of my grandmother’s pies and pine.

It was the 1960s, and back then the town dressed itself in light.
In the week before Thanksgiving, workers would climb ladders to hang great strands of bulbs from one side of Park Street to the other.
Not dainty garlands or soft ribbons, but grand, glowing bridges of color—magnificent ropes of red, green, gold, and white that arched across the street like celestial banners.
And on Thanksgiving, at my grandparents home, where we would gather for a feast of gratitude,  we would wait with excitement to see the lights turned on.
When the switch was flipped, the whole world changed.
From our big front windows, we’d watch the lights come alive—one string, then another, until the entire street shimmered like a river of stars.
At the end of the road stood the enormous Christmas tree, crowned with a bright, blazing star that felt almost alive.
We’d press our faces to the cold glass, the laughter of cousins and uncles and aunts spilling through the house, and the scent of turkey and cloves heavy in the air.
I remember the warmth of it, the hum of belonging, and something deeper that stirred quietly in my chest—something I didn’t have words for then.
It wasn’t just joy. It wasn’t just family. It was truth.Connection.
A sense of the eternal standing right there in the glow of ordinary life.

Years later, I would learn its name.
The Star Soul. 
​The upper soul. The higher self.
The divine bird perched upon the unseen branches of the World Tree, seeing the expanse of our lifetimes all at once.
It was there even then, perched above the lights, whispering through the laughter, reminding me that the feeling I had—of being part of something so vast, so achingly beautiful—wasn’t imagination.
It was remembrance.

Thanksgiving ran into Christmas, a month of glorious lights, music,shopping, and festivites throught my small town, and the feeling of connection would fill me as much as the candy straws my grandmother always had near the front door during this season.
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For many years, my grandmother’s tree was topped with a star, and it shone through the front window like a beacon.
But one year, she replaced it with an angel.
I remember asking her why, and she said softly, “Because the angels live with the stars.
The stars and the angels are one.”
I never forgot that.
The angel she once placed upon her tree now sits atop mine, glowing quietly through the seasons. Every time I lift it into place, I think of her words and how deeply true they are.
The stars and the angels are one.
The heavens and the soul are one.
The child I was and the woman I am—they are one.

We don’t see the lights crossing Park Street anymore.
The banners of glory are gone, and the tree still stands each year, but the magic feels quieter now. The laughter has softened.
The gatherings have changed.
And sometimes I think that what we’ve lost isn’t just tradition—it’s a kind of soul light, a connection to wonder itself.
But the Star Soul never leaves us.
It is the shimmer that still flickers in our hearts when we look up at the night sky.
It is the light that knows us through every lifetime.
It is the same pulse that mediums touch when they call upon the guidance that loves unconditionally—the voice that says, You are never alone.
You are of the stars.

In my adult years, I have come to understand what that childhood wonder was truly showing me.
It was never only about the lights, or the tree, or even the family gathered close—it was about the language of the soul calling me home.
As I grew and my path as a medium unfolded, I came to see that what I had felt in those earliest moments was not outside of me at all.
It was the Star Soul itself—my own higher self—reaching through time, reminding me that love is eternal, that spirit is never lost, and that nothing, not even death, can extinguish the shimmer of connection.

The Blood Soul roots us in lineage.
It carries the pulse of those who came before—their joys, their wounds, their stories written into our very veins.
The Bone Soul grounds us in form, in the living memory of the earth itself, in the endurance of those who built and broke and built again.
But the Star Soul… the Star Soul lifts us beyond it all.
It is where forgiveness is born.
It is where love expands past the limits of grief and time.
It is where we remember that we are multidimensional, ever-becoming, ever-rising beings—that like the stars, we do not die.
We shimmer across lifetimes, carrying our wisdom forward, crossing the veil again and again in the name of growth, compassion, and divine reunion.

As a medium, I feel this every time Spirit speaks.
The Star Soul allows me to hear not only the words of those who have passed, but the echo of their higher understanding—their evolution, their peace, their love.
It is the bridge between the worlds, the part of us that remains alight no matter what endings come.
Nothing is ever promised in one lifetime.
That is the grace of the Star Soul.
We return again and again, guided by that eternal light, learning, forgiving, remembering.
And in every moment of connection—every whisper from Spirit, every message of love—we are reminded that we have never truly left the heavens. We have only come here to remember them.

May your Star Soul shine bright through every shadow.
May your Bone Soul anchor you to the wisdom of those who walked before.
May your Blood Soul remind you that love, once born, never dies.
I am of blood.
I am of bone.
I am of stars.
We are one in three—roots, branches, and tree.
​May this always be.

If this story resonates with you and you feel called to explore your own Star Soul—or to connect with loved ones in Spirit—I invite you to reach out.
My name is Jennifer Belanger, Intuitive Practitioner and Medium.
You can learn more or schedule a session at www.energytouchintuition.com.
Every session is an invitation to remember that where love exists, nothing is ever truly lost.

​“Serving clients from Western Massachusetts and the Berkshires, the Capital Region of New York, Southern Vermont, and worldwide via virtual sessions.”

The lights that sang to my Star Soul