Captain of my Ship

Franz:
As to how to be a creator, the suggestion made by your friend [Frank DeMarco in The Cosmic Internet] to 'remote view your own life' is not a bad one, with some cautions about letting your  ego-mind magnify fears [Think Rimmer in red Dwarf in the holoworlds].
K; So, visualisation.
F: Yes but visualisation from the viewpoint of 'sensiing vectors', of looking at the avenues that are possible from your current standpoint of choices.  Every choice closes certain possibilities and opens others in your prospective futures. Some are malleable - you can go back - but others are not (such as choices that lead to dropping the body).

Guidance

Some might wonder what the point or purpose of guidance is, if we are here, supposedly to interact with this plane, learn to make choices, and 'do things ourselves' with 'delayed consequences'. Good question! Claire had this to say:

K: Is it possible to be 'at cause' in one's 3D life, or is this New Age hokum?
C: What do you think this conversation is, if not being at cause? [as opposed to being a victim?]

Then Franz:
F: What must be considered is who or what is exerting control? Higher Self? The Life Council? Various resonances of 'other selves'? The basic, unmediated embryonic ego? You can see that discerning who or what is very important.

In the present case, it would be fair to say that the persona (ego plus soul inserted into the body) wants to have a greater hand in ' shaping matters'. To do this I would suggest that you follow the instructions for shaping matter: visualisation, putting out energy of a particular need or desire to those who can fulfill it, then 'checking in' with one of us as to whether it is on course for the life plan, so as to avoid wasted effort.

I don;t mean to say that you should do this with every little decision or choice in your life, but the larger ones would benefit from such checking in. It is of benefit to study how this works so as not be be forever bashing your head against brick walls, as you would say.

Parts of Self and Choice

In discussing the facilitation of goals with Franz today, a continuance of a previous conversation about the threads or resonance or Other [past] personalities of self occurred.

F: If your goal is to have a peaceful, financially stable life, then you must make inner and outer choices which facilitate this. If you wish, conversely, to 'rely solely on guidance and go wherever the wind takes you', this involves an entirely different set of choices; choices which are not being, I point out, entirely in keeping (harmony) with either your persona or the various threads (consciousnesses, 'lifetimes') active now in your make-up.

K:With regard to that, it would be interesting to see their orientations, views, and 'who's steering the ship', as it were.

F: Very well. A dossier:
Ancel [Master of the Scriptorium at Salisbury, 13th C] - contributes logic, and attention to craft and its preservation. His overriding attribute is analysis of the intersection of soul and spirit.

Bekka [Minor member of the Hapsburg family, a good faith offering to the Reich] performance of duty, putting self last. You are perceiving that her influence is largely detrimental  to your persona in terms of development, but she facilitates interface with your present culture's expectations.

Patty [Jefferson] this one has been self-deprecating to a self-destructive degree, but contributes a 'romantic' (feeling based) sensibility and love of beauty necessary to your work.

Molly [Pianist, wife of a university don] contributes logic in a practical manner - which is helpful in integrating the business world, and a very deep sense of beauty.

Ellie [Appalachian seamstress] this one also has  extremely self-deprecating tendencies, and the habit of following along, not standing up for herself. But she too has skill in craft, a good business sense and sense of beauty.

In all cases of the self-deprecating threads, it is important to separate out what is useful in their influence from what is not, which may not be apparent as such at first glance.

***
I then circled all the positives, for future reference and discussion with the personas. In the case of Bekka, I asked myself how I could avail of her facility with cultural expectations without descending into that 'loss of self' that was a hallmark of her life. I decided to use her (pardon the term) for those things that make life easy and pleasant: cleaning, cooking, baking, home craft. (Let her be a housewife) - which is where that desire comes from (in me), because she never got to except partly at the end of her life after the war.

I had then a strong sense of incoming information. and realised that I needed to change her outcome (she died as part of the infamous resistance after the war.) Several possibilities presented themselves, some humorous, such as running off with General Sepp Dieterich - a joke between them - but the most cohesive with her own life was to get her and her child Karl to Switzerland and be reunited with her Hapsburg relatives (beloved Uncle Otto and so on), as it was from them she was taken as a young child. It would be completing the circle.

Miss Patty - Retrieval IV

This was somewhat unexpected, given my lifelong familiarity with this life; despite certain experiences - uncontrollable grief, anger and bitterness when at Monticello - it never occurred to me that she might be stuck. Erm, was/is this rescue the thing I was/am supposed to do about this (and not write a book)? Well, if so, here it is. May the release of energy from this heal all concerned and free up new ways of being.

I was very surprised to see her at Elk Hill on the James (a property owned first by her father, where she lived with her first husband, the grounds of which Cornwallis destroyed in his march through) and not at Monticello, which at first blush would be 'more logical'. However, like victims of amnesia, it appears that she went back to a place and time before a great deal of the crashing horror of the life occurred. Yes those are subjective words. No apologies.

* The photo above is of Plynlimmon, nearby in Goochland, because the present house at Elk Hill Farm is  Gothic revival, built in the 1830s. The original house was a frame house (like ten-thousand other Virginia gentry houses, not really much to write home about.)

I found her sitting on a chair before the window, looking out at Elk Island in the river. The date was June, 1776. Yes that year. She had just had another miscarriage, was ill (diabetes type I) and depressed. She had supposed to be at The Forest in Charles City already with her sister and brother-in-law/cousin, and everyone was coming to look for her, having received frantic letters from Mr. Jefferson in Philadelphia.

So, I thought, Oh Lud, how shall I manage this? Realising that it would be very difficult to tear her away, she being very stubborn (her worst fault). So I thought, well, why not use the two people who came to me as a preschooler as young girls, her sisters Elizabeth and Anne? My dear Amy had actors as two of her sisters (Nancy [Anne] and Tibb [Tabitha]), actually so it should be fairly easy.

Amy and I arrived in the hall outside of the bedchamber where she sat; the door was open, so, it was a matter of scratching on the door (a family habit) and walking in.
K/E: Sister, at last!
She turned, somewhat listlessly, while we took off out bonnets, but her eyes lit and then grew teary.
P: Oh my dear sisters!
There were embraces and cheek-kisses.
A: Sister we have been so worried when we had no word of you! So we decided to come and fetch you ourselves, thinking perhaps that you needed assistance.
Oh Amy, well done!
E: Francis has been beside himself, receiving letters by every post from our friend. [Mr. Jefferson]. Had you none here at all?
I knew that she had not of course. She shook her head and so I held out a thick packet of letters, tied up in pale blue ribbon.
E: These are all this month gone.
She looked at them rather fearfully, paling, and shaking a little, her face then a changing canvas of emotions - happiness, sorrow, wistfulness.
P: Oh my dear Betsey! Thank you! You are an angel!
She took up the letters with gladness - and put them directly into her pocket in her skirts.
P: I shall read them anon.
She promised.
A: You shall, as WE are going to kit you out and bring you right along! No argument now!
Have you anything ready fit to wear?
She looked askance at the rather shabby old gown, a work gown, threadbare and mended - almost shredded, and at the undressed hair flowing loose. It was comical to see Amy as Nance was then, the littlest of the sisters, both in age and size, fussing about like a little brown hen. Patty looked toward the wardrobe press in a kind of confusion.
P: I ... think so...

Well, she had been there for such a long time in a daze, that surely fashion was the last thing on her mind. (Even though she had been in life quite fashionable and not a little vain.)
At this moment,  her servant Bett appeared in the doorway, cheerful, managerial, bustling. I hid a smile. Madame in disguise.
B: Now lamby, you come along and we's all will set you to rights. Look here and see what Mary come up with in the guest room -
Mary was Bett's eldest daughter. In comes Mary with a chemise a la reine, the most fashionable of French frocks at the time, designed to appeal to that forgotten vanity.

 All the bustle of changing and arranging has at least taken her attention off the window which had exerted such an hypnotic fascination for so long. When all is done, we take her downstairs to the waiting open carriage and all sit together.

Driving along the river road smoothly (not bumps and ruts and other inconveniences of 18th Century travel),  I ask her what she was waiting for at the window. The pleasant expression of enjoyment at the dappled light vanishes and she looks catatonic again.
P: I was waiting for Mr. Skelton.
Eek. Her first husband. This is worse than I thought. She has retreated entirely to before her marriage. I glance at Amy, who says firmly,
A: No, Batt and Tibb and Jackie and Pa are all gone, Patt. So is Betsey's Dick, and Janey.
She nods at me. husbands, siblings, children, nephews.
Patty shakes her head as if waking up.
P: Why, yes of course, how foolish of me!
Her hands are tight on the reticule strings in her lap. I think she might get lost again, but she turns to me earnestly.
P: Have you heard from Maria since your loss? [a mutual friend]
I assure her that I have, and begin talking about many other friends. Keep her in her present. That's progress.

We are still traveling along the pleasant river road, and I suggest that she might want to look at her letters, that we won't mind, and a little distractedly, as if she has forgotten them, she says 'Oh Yes' and removes them from her pocket. There are many tears and kisses of the words of the one on top. I hide my smile. The girl who used to read novels is still alive in her.  She bursts out:
P: Oh! he has been asked to go to FRANCE! to assist Dr. Franklin as Minister.
Her eyes are shining.
P: France, France, France!
I think of her eldest daughter, who was a coltish tomboy as a little girl but who cherished her own time in France. It had been a girlish dream, for Patty, amongst her father's French essays and sermons and plays, borne up by the interest her first husband had in that country also. She is as excited as a girl.
P: He says I am to await with you and we will leave directly he returns -[reading]- this Tuesday week... That's tomorrow! Oh Lud!
She is blushing like a girl.
E: That is why we came. Francis had the same intelligence of him.
Making it all up of course, but, look at her.
P: Oh, Betsey! You are such a clever thing!
She hugs me impulsively.

She doesn't seem to notice that no night or day is passing, or that we do not stop at taverns or friends' houses on the way. That's as well. We are suddenly moving up the hill towards her childhood's home, a modest house amid pine, tulip, and walnut trees. She is straining to look, as there in the half-circular driveway, is a familiar horse. She digs her fingers into my arm.
P: Oh he's here! He's here!
And with that He indeed appears from the house and Elizabeth's husband with him. The carriage has barely stopped and she has scrambled out and flung herself on him. Uncharacteristic in public, but not among family.
P: I received your letter!
She is exclaiming.
P: Oh France! France!
He is smiling his sardonic smile.
T: I thought you might be glad to see me too.
He teases.

She is happy and over the moon.

Inside the house is much discussion of logistics. A ship has been commissioned for them. Various friends are helping to secure supplies. And, a letter from Lafayette's wife Adrienne, in French, welcoming her to her country and hoping to embark upon a deep and lasting friendship.

Everything now will change, as they indeed embark on this alternative history in the holoworlds There. The changes for myself as a 'downline' remain to be seen [if any]. But watching her dance about her childhood home on light feet in those few 'days', reunited with her husband and daughters, I feel less conflicted about the life and its 3D outcome.

The pull of that life from my earliest childhood was because she needed rescuing. It cast a long shadow. But all that is done. When they take their leave, bound for new adventures, we wave them farewell from that curved driveway that now is barely discernable among the ruins of the house in the 3D.
K: Well done!
I say to Amy. She is smiling.
A: Yes.

Queens

Two, one two three four
Ev'rybody's talking about
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism, Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, that-ism, is-m, is-m, is-m. 

This post is gong to be about Archetypes and Gender Identity. Anyone who has a problem with that, stop reading right now. The rest of you, carry on.

The conjunction of Caitlyn Jenner's revelation on the cover of Vanity Fair, the Supreme Court's upholding the rights of gay people to marry, and the murder of 9 people in Charleston for being black has brought up matters of identity in the US. Over on the Joseph Campbell Mythological Roundtable, this has received a lot of discussion. The views range from the 'scientific' - what according to DNA IS 'gender identity'?- to the spiritual - archetypes, the Hero's Journey - to the cultural - what does it mean to be gay, black, fe/male at this time?

The answers of individuals - like the view of historians or biographers - is often more illuminating as to the writer than their subject. But that in itself is instructive as to where we are in the process of Change as a society right now, thus Important.

One of the most interesting discussions, to me, is the re-emergence of the Queen archetype in the female life span, as opposed to Maiden/Mother/Crone being the only options. I take this very personally, as Persephone - one of my major archetypes - embodies three of those modes (Maiden/Queen/Crone)- with Queen of the Underworld being the 'most enduring' (of the longest duration) There of the three. Here in the 3D I have achieved three of those four stages (Maiden/Mother/Queen) and was stuck in the Maiden/Damsel Who Must Be Rescued for a very long time, well into the Mother/Queen st/age. The quarternity, in Jungian terms, is well-presented here.

The Damsel in Distress

This is the immature version of the saboteur. Like the saboteur, this young woman remains self-absorbed, aloof, and does not really understand her environment. It has become disappointing to her as it at best has not met her needs and at worst has entrapped her. Her lack of prior inquisitiveness has left her untaught, ill-prepared and unable to provide for herself. She needs to be rescued from her own life. Unfortunately her lack of relatedness has left her stranded with out known options that would be able to bring about resolution. As in her adult form, her distance from her own needs not only undermines the environment, but sabotages herself. Her need to relate is trapped within her, i.e. self-absorbed, she is well aware that she has needs, but does not have a clue as to how to bring them about. She is trapped, and awaiting divine intervention.

Queen/Mother

I offer this archetypal combination to both honor Toni Wolfe’s original labeling and to acknowledge that there is an aspect of this complexual form that does not have to be a biological mother. The queen/mother aspect of a woman is a complex that has a personal relationship with her subjects and assumes the responsibility of providing an environment in which her subjects can thrive and flourish and find the relational qualities necessary for harmony to exist in the queendom. Her very presence in life leads her through experiences to discover the role that awaits her. Her role will be to instill in her subjects the qualities that she, by her own inner sense of things, deems important. Her dedication to this labor force her to surrender some aspects of her natural sensuality. Her seductress is commonly one of the first victims of this commitment. She may even be tempted to convert her relationship with her lover into that of mother-son, which will provide her mate with a safe place to exist in so his energies are free to provide financial and maintenance support to her family. She tends to be very supportive of social systems that provide an extended environment in which her children or subject are safe to explore and then return to her. The mother has truly surrendered herself and her path as an individual. Her view of wholeness is not simply herself, but the oneness of herself with her self defined charges, be these children or adults. She, of course , will sacrifice herself for her charges, for she has traded her individual path for the opportunity to be the creator and inspiration of her charges who in her creative side she hopes will fulfill and surpass the dreams that she sacrificed to care for them. So, the accomplishments of her subjects become her fulfillment.

The Medial

This aspect of the adult feminine is impersonal as is the amazon, but opposes the amazon in that the fields she play in are the fields of spirit and unconscious ideation. The medial is a channel from the external world to her internal or from the collective unconscious to potential consciousness. She is naturally in tune with her environment and with her intuitive abilities attunes herself to the vibrations that surround her. Her strength is in her ability to trust the internal message over what is obviously standing in front of her as the two commonly oppose each other in the world of the medial. She has some Hecate or witch like qualities about her in that she knows what she knows. But, this knowing does not come to her through reason or exploration. Rather, if she comes near it, it just invades her and demands recognition. When she is surrounded by light creative energy all is well with her and those about her. However, when darkness or discord appear on the horizon of the unconscious, she is the first to sense it. If she denies the intuitive invasion, then the dynamics are pushed into her own shadow and she may be forced to act out the discord in physical or psychological illness. However, the structural form of the medial is truly a vessel, not a receptacle. Therefore, she can avoid this illness by simply allowing the energy of the intuition to pass through her by announcing it to consciousness (either hers or to whomever it may belong). One of the tricky aspect of being a medial is determining for whom her bells tolls. She can easily cause great discord herself by confusing inner messages from her own unconscious with collective material or by assuming that every thought that ripples through her head is a message for someone. Just like the amazon needs to refine her skills, so the medial needs to refine hers. Her unwillingness to apply discipline and wisdom to her gift can be her seriously detrimental to both herself and those close to her.

While it is true that in the Upper Astral (5th Dimension) and Mental (6/7th Dimension) there isn't gender as we think of it here in the 3D, there is an habitual choice of projection for purposes of communicating in the 4th and 5th Dimensions, commonly known as Gender. In specific, all the people we have met thus far in this blog - Franz, Madame, George, Claire, Amy - are actually non-gendered, but project the aspects of gender 'for convenience's sake' [their words] because 'it is hard to get excited by a fuzzy orange blob' [George]. No spirit (or Higher Self or whatever you wish to call it) has gender. It never did. Soul fragments have whatever gender in whatever worlds system the soul goes into as a personality (and some of them have as many as 36 'genders' as we think of them here on Earth) for reasons that have to do with the role taken on.

It is also true that in utero here on earth, certain 'outside influences' [ hormones in food] and 'naturally occurring' influences [over secretion of certain hormones due to enzyme block or lacks as in my own family] can cause hormone and actual physical changes in the embryo, fetus, child and adult, with the cascade of concomitant difficulties and 'gender ambiguity' manifestations (intersex newborns, assigned a particular gender at birth).

My role here - apart from whatever else I am doing - and There is as 'Queen of the Underworld', helping those who are being born and dying with their transitions. I understand the dynamics of physical and non-physical life very well, both in its functional and 'spiritual' aspects. But Claire, for all her having actors ( soul fragments) who have been females and going by a female name - which means Light - hasn't a gender. Many of her aspects are what archetypally would be considered masculine. Her relationships with Madame and Amy and others could conceivably be considered 'romantic' (but so could those with Franz and George). This is an aspect of the 'genderlessness' referred to earlier.

The practical resonance for me here is that I am very 'open-minded' about gender issues, and always have been. I have my own personal preferences - I am very girly girl in many ways, but my mind is logical and thus 'masculine' - but I do not allow these to affect my view of others' co-called 'choices'. The reasons one incarnates in one body type with the mind, spirit and emotions of another are quite complex, and not mine to 'pass judgement upon.'

We are here in this 3D plane at this time as people, to break the stereotypes of what it means to be human, in preparation for being an off-planet civilisation and encountering others (so-called aliens) whom we definitely will view as Other. Gender issues are kindergarten compared to that.

Mountain Rescue- Retrieval III

Again at the Eco Village, this time in my house, a cabin. Cool, dim, comfortable old thing, built from nothing, over these 40 years of earth time. Waiting for George to finish up filing a rucksack with the gods know what. I feel sick. This is going to be... something intense. Self is in the long braids mode and hippie clothes, loose top and shorts. Hmm.

He comes out, from the other room, rucksack in hand, also in his (rather new here) hippie guise of longish hair, Indian shirt and yoga pants. The people coming back are as flummoxed by him as they were by Franz' Hamburg leather pants and red silk shirt. This is not what they expect. 'Are you God' questions become 'God is a hippie?' It's all to loosen them up (as was Franz' 'God is a German queen' outfit.)

G: ready?

K: I guess.

He touches my shoulder.

G: Don't be nervous!

I say nothing. 'I have a bad feeling about this' – to quote Princess Leia.

I realise that Joe and Maggie aren't coming....

We go out, through the pristine Village and pine trees encircling and are moving swiftly towards the mountains, the same area where my Dad lives. I have a swirling sensation, spinning sideways, as I sometimes did when doing readings for people many years ago.

We are at a campground.

I recognise it as one we used to frequent when I was a girl. In the Earth plane, it was in Kern, at Lake Isabella. So many mishaps there... I became intimately acquainted with the local Emergency Room [A&E]. We walk up the winding trail towards the playground area, he before me, making jokes about looking out for bears [as happened in Yellowstone] and eating pine trees [Euell Gibbons].

At length, behind the playground, we come to a section of extremely large boulders, as high as one and two story houses. Up on top, at the edge of one, is my 7 year old self, frozen in fear and indecision. In the earth plane, the daughter of a family friend, whom I was with (along with her little brother) said blithely 'look out for black widow spiders, they're poisinous' described them, and went off clambering with her brother. Seeing one near me, I was instantly terrified, and to my mind had a choice: jump (and die) or stay (and die). As with the poor souls in the Twin Towers who decided to jump from to 115^th floor rather than face a fiery demise, I then thought that taking the decision into my own hands rather than be the victim of an unknown fate was the better choice. It never occurred to me to run away in the opposite direction towards the ground. I didn't know where Rita was. I just screamed and jumped. I never knew how high the rock really was, or how long I was 'out'. Now, I see it was about 30 feet high. Now I know it was about 20 minutes.

But here she is, stuck in that moment of decision, 'in an impossible situation' , with 'only two choices, both of them bad.' I recognise what George is going to do. He is squinting up at her in the sunshine.

G: Hey! Hey up there! Are you stuck? Do you need help getting down?

She just stares at him, shaking her head in terror.

G: It's all right. We'll help you down. Come on, Claire, rope up.

He nods and hands me an end of the rope he has slung over his shoulder.

Ah.

I wrap a length of it around myself in the old way of a 'gentleman's belay', figuring that I and she will have to abseil off. Or at least I will.

G: Don't be afraid, little girl. Claire is climbing up to help you. We will get you down.

She speaks at last.

D: But, but SPIDER!

She points backwards and looks about ready to pass out.

G: Don't worry. It's not harmful. It won't hurt you.

He speaks very calmly. I look over my shoulder at him dubiously. I don't know if it is harmful or not. He nods and speaks quietly.

G: Go on.

We have climbed often in many places here, and as a belayer and climbing leader, I trust him absolutely. He has all of Mallory's skill and a much improved teaching and leading ability. Up, indeed I go, hammering pitons as I do, into the faceless areas, putting in cams in cracks, working my way up slowly and with care, manteling over the outcrop at the top, so that I am lying at the feet of the little girl before I spring up.

K: Hello there. I'm Claire. You're safe now. George and I will get you down and take you home.

I put my hand on her shoulder, because she is too big to pick up.

D: But, but SPIDER!

She points again.

I look over, and there is indeed a spider, but it is not a black widow at all, indeed harmless. All this and nearly dying because of an ordinary spider! [Of which, I should note, I am not presently afraid] I feel angry again at the stupid child Rita, who had other idiocies to her credit on my behalf, Why the parents let her anywhere near me repeatedly, I cannot imagine. I realise that I am angry at the adoptive parents and at Rita's parents for not being responsible adults. Put the anger where it belongs then let it go. Reaching into my pocket, I take out a piece of paper, scoop up the spider, and release it over the edge of the rock then go back to the little girl.

K: You're safe now. Now, let's see about getting you down.

I survey the area, and realise that to the rear of the rocks, it is sloping, perfectly able to be walked down in rock shoes or sneakers, with a helping hand if one is a little girl. The way down is some 50 feet away. Safety, an option not involving death was 50 feet away. Hrm.

I go back to the high edge and tell George of the way down. He'll probably have to walk a bit, but it's perfectly easy. I unrope and toss the rope to him.

G: see you in a bit.

K: Okay.

I take the little girl's hand.

K: Now, see, we can walk down here this way. I will help you so you don't feel scared, okay? And my friend will meet us down at the back. Then we will take you home.

She looks up at me.

D: But, Rita and Jorge...

K: They can find their own [expletive censored] way home. Come on.

We go down, slowly, because she's still shocky, and at the bottom we wait for a few minutes and George comes striding through the trees, all smiles.

G: well, hello there! Very please to meet you. That was a little adventure, wasn't it! I'm George, and this is Claire, and we're going to take you home.

She nods dubiously.

K: she's worried about the other kids. The ones who got her into this fix.

G: Oh I see.

He scans the area.

G: well, I'm sure we'll find them at home. Come on.

He takes her hand as well and we walk through the pines, down the trail to the entrance area to the campground.

G: Now, we have to take a special way to get back, but don't worry. Hold our hands.

She nods and in a moment we are are the Children's Centre (again!)

He takes her in and deals with the transfer while I wait outside with the gatekeeper. After a few minutes, I see the child running to greet someone she knows in the garden. Mission accomplished.

George comes out and we make our way back to the cabin in the EcoVillage. Sitting in the quiet with cold drinks, lounging on the chair and sofa, we talk about the interim [when I was 'out' after jumping] and the impact of the decision and sense of choices.

This was one of those points that happen in every life where a window to leave comes up. But because I was, as you might say, habituated to the [near]death experience, the situation limited the perceived choices that I had (age aside – I was an extremely bright child). This psychological mechanism is (was) still active in me as I write this. Trust in other people's perceptions and judgements, fear of mortal circumstances and bad consequences, and the perception of only extreme choices.

In the interim, it was shown (to my not-child consciousness) what would transpire and not if I stayed There. Far flung, multiple scenarios. (The future, except for the broad outlines of the script, not being fixed). So I went back.

In the physical body, all I had to cope with was a mild concussion and a few stitches. But the psychological impact was very great, and affected my responses to life, and way of making choices to this day. By the grace, this is ameliorated now.

Earthrise Over Mars

This, Babies. This. PAY ATTENTION!
So I was watching the ending scene of the Last of the Mohicans, where Chingachgook is outlining all the CHANGE that WILL COME,
RIGHT THEN, I am also reading THIS in 'The Cosmic Internet' (by my editor Frank DeMarco) - the words belong to his HS, guides, and friends There:

'Consider the work if you will, to be that of creating and infusing with energy a visualisation, a new archetype, a container. Your society is tearing itself apart because you are in the time of a new birth. AID THAT BIRTH!... Your society may now be considered for the first time in RECORDED history all the subspecies of the planet. You are a global civilisation. Those who cannot create rely upon those who can. It requires much less to adhere to a new vision than to obtain and co-shape it. Your work is to help shape the vision so that your fellows - many of whom will hate your for the work! - may benefit. It is a great and a rare privilege to participate in the coalescence of a new civilisation; rarer to participate in a new form of civilisation; rarest of all -your fate - to also participate in the coming to consciousness of a new way of being human.'

This is why I am here, this is what I have always been about. Not only me. But others. You know who you are. And you know exactly why you have put up with all the dross and ignorance and darkness and stupidity. You know what we are building. Do not forget. Stand fast. Stand fast.

Caveat Emptor

An instructive conversation with Claire, regarding Life, Manifestation, and 'internal' or 'pastlife' influences. It appears that the Life Councils have not only responsibility for approval of a particular role (life) and the review process, but also of 'course corrections' along the way. Additionally, playing by the rules of the game here (in whatever one is doing) apparently cannot be circumvented. I understand that this applies to 'black opps' and 'secret societies' as much as to being a brick-layer or corporate financier. This conversation wasn't a 'feel good' boost (They aren't There solving all our problems for us), but it was interesting. I hope it 'proves' to someone that this isn't all a lot of hooey.

Meeting in Green Room of Theatre, on the squashy sofa. [Meetings here are the 'softer, kinder gentler' version of meetings onstage. All have to do with interactions in the 3D]

C: How can I help you?

K: I need assistance getting an income that will support me. It's all very well to 'belong to timelessness', but I have to pay my bills, keep a roof over my head, and food on the table. Same old problems.

C: have you taken into account what Franz said recently? [about work relating to former writings]

K: Yes. But I'm seeing no signs of it. So I don't trust it. I put in applications every day and nothing comes back. I send to agents and nothing comes back. I need assistance. I need a miracle.

C: Your council granted assistance.

K: Not seeing any sign of that either.

C: So you're feeling discouraged.

K: To put it mildly. As I mentioned to a friend just now, what use is knowing and seeing all this, how it works, when it makes not a blind bit of difference to practical life? Whoopie, I 'inspire people'. I shall inspire them ever so when I am dead because of lack of funds, meds, help. I just don't understand WHY the only things I have ever done to keep myself are also soul killing and debilitating to my adrenal condition.

C: Because you have settled for, allowed those things, when you found they were draining.

K: I have to get a living. No trust fund. None of my books has made me rich. Brother Rabbit has not. Even Williamsburg, much as I loved it, was very part-time. In fine, this life reads better than it lives, and I feel that I don't belong here, that the world doesn't need or want me.

C: belonging, again. Because you cannot thrive.

K: To heck with thrive, I just want to break even. I object to the 'do whatever it takes' philosophy, when no shops around here will hire me because I haven't food experience in decades, no business down the hill because … I don't know why.

C: Understand that I am not criticising you. I am in fact taking notes.

K:?

C: to present to the Council.

K: I see. Well thank you.

C: I recognise better than you do what factors are at play in the game. 

K... I had the cognition the other day that the personality and the 'sub'elements' if you will – other resonances [life-roles] that are affecting this personality – are in conflict in terms of desires. On the one hand, personality wants to immerse itself in the Brother Rabbit model of business (but there is no income from which to do that now) AND wants to leave. The various sub-factors want to 1) write and study anthro [Mary Anne O'Malley]; 2) Study the arcane [Ancel]; 3)stay home and manage things [Molly, Patty]; 4) go home (in both senses) [Ellie]. I can see how and when all these factors were or are at play in my life. Are there more?

C: Everything going on here. I know that your life there seems pointless to you, and has done for many years with the exception of the children. 'The effect of choice and the consequences of choice'. The affection and gratitude with which you are regarded is no small accomplishment, by the way. But as you say, 'that's nice, it doesn't put bread on the table.' WE are aware of this – Franz, George, and myself. Your Council is aware of it (through your and our repeated updates.) WE are working to try to change matters, change their minds regarding interference.

K: The maxim goes ' if you don't like something in your life, the way it's turned out, work to change it.' Well doing so, or going for 'what I wanted and am good at' has only resulted in material hardship, if not ruin, over and over. It is this which has got me down.

C: The part which is left out of that maxim is 'following the rules of the game you are playing'. Your problems have come from trying to skip several steps, unknowing that there were steps.

K: Great. I thought I was following signs correctly.

C: The rules of the game there still adhere.

K: So, what do I do?
C: as I have said, keep doing what you're doing. For our part, we're working on it, with other players there, with the Council. It will take a little while. But there are very promising leads.

K ...Thanks...

Belonging

As I have mentioned earlier in this blog, the death of my sister in the days after we were born left me feeling that I was 'all alone out there', that I didn't belong anywhere or to anyone. Being weird - fey - from the beginning also made me an outsider, other. If I have had a neurosis, or challenge to overcome, it has been of feeling that I belong. I have discovered that a good part of this is purely chemical, for when I take taurine or lithium or just nutritional yeast with all its amino acids, I feel this sense of separation less, or not at all.

Nevertheless, in times of stress or crisis, I go right back to that feeling of 'not belonging', feeling at odds with the present time and culture and that the world doesn't want, let alone appreciate what I have to offer. Now, this is not a 'poor me' story. I am just reporting on the inner landscape. My (also vastly intelligent) cousin cannot believe that a smart person such as myself could ever suffer from this. It just isn't in his worldview at all.

So.

All my life I said 'I am my father's daughter, because I am nothing like my mother' (I do sound like her and have the same sense of humour, but those are minor, in my opinion.) This from having regular communications from both of them, all my life, on an etheric level.

Well, as it happens, I am indeed my father's daughter. I am more like my father's side of the family than I could ever hope to dream. Not merely physically, although that too. We have the same intellect, the same (sarcastic) sense of humour, the same talents, the same values, and orientation to life. Over and over again this is shown to me, these last three years.

And then today, the ultimate: after my ranting about the moral turpitude of one of our local business owners, another cousin of mine said to me that our Nana, my father's mother, would be so proud of me and love me so much, that what I had said reminded so much of her.

I belong. To this tribe. This vast rollicking, hard-working, loving, brawling, never-give-up clan.
I am theirs and they are mine.

Thank you, Dad.

Addendum: In the midst of writing this, I had a phone call from my dear friend Mary Wiseman, who interprets Lady Washington at Mount Vernon, thanking me for an 18th century embroidered pin cushion I sent her for her interpretation. She called it, the very spirit of the 18th Century embodied as it lay in her hand. She re-iterated to me as she has many times that I am 'too gracious, kind, knowledgeable, rarefied' for this world, that I should be teaching 'all this' - arts and graces, as well as the spiritual - to people in some historic place, and lamented that she wasn't in a position to make that happen, as she once was when we were at Colonial Williamsburg together.
But I get it. I belong there too - to the ageless, to the ages, to times past and ways past, ways of being past.

Yes. I do.

Gatekeeper

Yesterday, a friend of ours died. Between the notice of her still being on life support early in the morning and our arrival shortly before noon, so many things went down, not least realising WHY George was unexpectedly back from his learning session early. It is one of his jobs to act as 'ferryman', which he has done for many years of our time. It was only 'since' his life as George Mallory that that expression has been the one to show up, on Everest and elsewhere. He is not the only ferryman of course; he has his regions, while others have theirs.

My purpose was also front and centre as we made our way down our mountain to the hospital. I am the gatekeeper, as in the one who sits in front of the labyrinth. I'm here to make sure people who are transitioning understand that they are doing so, that they will be met (by George, their own guides, family and other beloveds), and that they will be taken care of. I am also there to reassure the bereaved that we go on. That they may talk to their beloved any time they wish. That the communication flows both ways.

I have played this role so many times in this life, by 'accident' and by intent. The message, the thread, if you will (thinking of Theseus here in the great labyrinth of Crete) is of primary importance to the various components that make up this 'I' here. In the simplest terms, it is why I am here, to prod the memories of others, to reassure them of what they know: we go on. You are not alone. You will be taken care of. That sounds pretty basic, elementary. But in these critical times of birth and death (I also welcome the incomings, and remind them that they are still connected to all that is There) my presence alone has helped people. It is my service here. Kindness. Compassion. Support.

It's not about fame, or money, or the gratitude of others. It is about the doing. Like Hester Prynne, 'when came the dawn the helpful inmate was no more to be found, shunning both praise and recompense'... They are reminding me to 'finish the line'. so I shall: 'it might be pride, but it was so like humility that it worked a change of hearts on the people of the town toward her, a softness which she neither wanted, nor, perhaps, deserved.'

At any rate, I am grateful always to bear witness to these powerful, critical times. It is an honour to serve.

Thank you, Michelle. We love you.

Doorways

I was called to the Villa, and in the upper Salon, found George, back from his travels and learning, in his Byronic guise, all curling hair and dashingness. We exchanged great hugs and he proceeded to tell me something of his travels and adventures. He was in fine spirits, the recent contretemps forgotten.

I was then sent a message that Madame wanted to see me in her room, which I anticipated might be important, because I have never been asked to her room here before, so I went out into the upper hall, down the hallway to the left and to the room that connected with the bedchamber adjacent to the salon.


The house is and is not as labyrinthine as it appears. It is, at once, fairly straightforward, a Georgian house with antechambers and all connecting through the rooms themselves. But these rooms often lead 'elsewhere'; that is, into other realms, densities, or dimensions. However you want to word that.


As I say, I had never been in Madame's room here. It is her sanctum sanctorum. It is very different to any other part of the house, but in keeping with her job and personality, very much cohesive.

Painted in dark green, with branchy vines and other 'elements of vegetable wickedness' (to quote Hawthorne). it bears a strong resemblance to the Costume Morgue, which is her workspace. There isn't anything directly sinister about Madame; she is simply the Part of Nature, the chthonic dark earth goddess who goes by many names, whom you don't want to piss off.

Upon the dark carved bed she sat in this dim space, and beckoned me over to sit and have a chat.
The subject matter was the 'doorways' in the place. I already knew of the one that led from the lads' wardrobe ante-chamber to the Teaching area of the Mental plane (and to this room, as fancy suited.)
Madame pointed out to me, when I marveled how like the Costume Morgue it was, that the antechamber door yonder led directly to the area where I had, many aeons ago learned as her apprentice, shepherding the infant spirits in learning [how to be] the elementals of existence. These new spirits might or might not ever exist in the 3D physical worlds  - it isn't necessary - but it was our job to teach them how to navigate the initial levels of beingness - the consciousness of what you might call Nature, which is not quite as inanimate as people seem to think. In earth's popular culture, they are known as devas or faeries. But they aren't in the least cute. They are, variously, the old gods, the 'forces of nature', the trolls, dwarves, or the jackros. They are good-natured if well treated. But you don't want to get on their bad side.

The doorway was also one to the Teaching area in the Mental Plane where Madame and I are working presently, in my position as her apprentice, once again, this time to take over the 'Mother Nature' role eventually. I suspected that she was allowing me into the sanctuary to speed up this process of understanding how places and accesses There are interconnected.

After some advice to me that I need to do more with herbs again [ I am a trained herbalist and tend to work in the old ways, with decoctions and tinctures and poultices], she pointed out to me that in my own room - catercorner across the hall - there is a similar doorway in my own  wardrobe antechamber, and that I should perhaps explore whither it leads.

I took this as a directive, and will do so anon.

"You remind me of a Man..."

Old Hollywood film buffs will recognise the title of this post as a line from The Thin Man books and films. It really was meant as comic relief for the subject of this post.

Out on an errand today, we fell into talking about 'the War' - that is to say, World War Two. And it occurred to me that the young lady 'a part of "me"' was then had almost no experience of non-military life, being first a sort of Girl Guide involved in the war effort, then a secretary to a military official, then the wife of a young officer. How strange to come into civilian life after the war!

At any rate, I was curious enough to look up the man for whom she worked until 1944... and was stunned to realise that he looked exactly like the new CFO of the Archdiocese where I worked for over 8 years. The old CFO had retired, and on the very first day of the new man's tenure (which wasn't even a full day) I went home with the worst migraine of my life. I was always wary of him, until the day I left due to increasingly poor health.

I am not saying that I think that he WAS the same man - I think it unlikely - merely that he looked and acted like him, and I, having an instant aversion I could not explain, manifested this as stress which affected my adrenal condition. I don't blame the CFO, who was hardly the sort to be aware of ordinary undertones let alone the au dela. It was my reaction.

But it does tell me a lot on very subtle levels about the young woman's actual inner life and real feelings, which were mostly opaque even to her.

The world is a very funny place.

Reprogramming

As part of my Work on Self today, I did a reprogramming of a very nice and once-useful cyberbot (nanobot, if you prefer) which has now gone off to a well-earned holiday, and very happy he was to do so.

I queried the mechanics of the forever coming to the edge of disaster, oblivion, financial ruin,  health crisis, suicidal ideation in this life, and being half-rescued (enough to sustain life but not actually thriving, thus making it difficult for me to do what I came here to do.)

The feeling associated with this was of 'playing chicken', when I want smooth sailing, an outwardly calm waters- life (ha, pardon the pun from this Watters daughter), with an inward 'rich and strange' existence.

This bot was set into motion in coming back into the body from my last infant NDE at 4 months [which is the actual origin of my life circumstances always going south in July], being resuscitated (rescued) into a body that was always going to be 'delicate' due to prematurity [lung problems, asthma, bronchitis, pneumonia, chemical sensitivity, adrenal disorder, etc.]The conclusion made, by the infant consciousness was that 'life must always be a series of spectacular ups and downs' (because for the first year, it was.) The bot took it as its job to 'keep [me] alert for danger' and to 'alert the adults that attention was needed to this body and psyche'. This worked well enough as an infant and child. It wasn't the bot's fault that the adults appeared to have forgotten that this body had problems that would never go away and needed medical attention.

I thanked the bot for its long good work, and let it know that I am a capable adult now and no longer required six-alarm fires every several months, no longer needed my health, psyche, or material well-being sent into crisis mode to get the attention of rescuers. I let him know that until further notice I only needed him to remind me to take my adrenal supplements and extra salt (not to miss a day) and meditate. I explained that the crashes are actually creating what he is trying to help me  avoid.

He was very cute. In a C3PO, flustered sort of way, he was appalled and astonished, then overjoyed that he 'could now take a holiday?!' I had to repeat this several times. Yes, you can relax. The poor little dude was practically turning handsprings. So he joyfully agreed to sent me updates (like email, texts or tweets) if I appeared to have missed one or the other of these necessary therapies, otherwise he was free to be on holiday for the rest of his (our) life.

All's well that ends well.
We'll see the effect of this.

Control Panel

In doing an exercise mentioned by Ingo Swann and my publisher, using one's 'Control Panel' to change aspects of one's life experience, I was appalled to see how low most of the mundane levels were set - with the exception of Intellect, which was at about 50%.

The control panel is a visualisation of the filters or lack thereof we set prior to the present life to certain experiences. Mine looks something like the cockpit of a Viper because I have a lot of resonance with the life/lives in that last cycle (which ended here, but began 'long ago in a galaxy far far away', as a woman named Ata Bijani, who isn't terribly dissimilar to Starbuck - and boy do I get ribbing about that from people who were there, even now.) But I digress.

The levers were much higher when I began this life, and it is safe to say that my experiences have caused this down turning. Whatever. Time for change! I ratcheted everything up to 100%, pulling out all the stops: Health, Happiness, Connectivity (to There and others here, ESP empathy) was already at 100%, always has been, Creativity, Wellbeing, Finances, Intellect, Curiosity, Fame, 'Past'lives was also always at 100%.

All systems go!

Interconnection

Convo with Claire:
K: When Patricia and the I/There fragments live together There,  will there be an effect here, and if so, what?
C: There is always an effect of one's interaction, here and there, as you know.  We in no way operate in a vacuum, but are constantly responding to the changes you make by making choices - on your own or prompted by some of us. The fluidity of this changing scenery is known to you here (in terms of changes in job, living spaces.)
   In answer to your second question - in specific, you you - there will be a greater sense of ease and wholeness, because the 'missing part' of yourself (as a twin-consciousness) will be restored. You have 'missed your sister' for 50-odd years, and told everyone so. The connection (to  my sister-fragment, and not just  Amy)will be restored and very fruitful. She has felt separated from you as well. The effect here will be a lessening of attention on that fragment for Amy, an increase in the intermingling of Amy and myself [Claire], Amy and her other earth-bound fragments, and Amy and Arthur (the fellow she lives with in the Eco Village).
K: Speaking of that, how will this affect my I/There living in the Eco Village/Villa?
C: You will still have those residences. But you will also have access to the cottage/village life [of us sisters].
K: to they are adjacent to the Town?
C: Yes.
K: I see. So, Patricia loves English country life as well?
C: We should have thought that would be obvious.

Broken Faith

Retrieval II, Parts of Self

I am again in the common area of the EcoVillage, by the covered barbeque platform. Is is a brilliant day. Now, I barely have time to think of asking for fellow-travellers and Joe and Maggie show up.
K: Don't you guys have something more important to be doing?
Joe is grinning.
J: This won't take long. It's a nice break for us. And besides, you kind of matter to us.
M: So, come on, kid. Let's get this done!
She takes my hand and we are in the Midlands in no time, turning to the right over toward the Belief Systems Territories. I know where this is going, and I feel sick.

Sure enough, we go into a Roman Catholic Cathedral there. I have visited the Catholic section before with a visitor who was once Agnese of Assisi, who wanted to meet Jesus, and I know the by-ways and tiny alleys of this Umbrian style town. Umbria, where Assisi is. Assisi, where Clare and Francis grew up. I am shaking and feel very sick now.

The Cathedral is modeled on the Church of San Giorgio, which is where Clare and her sister Catherine (later Agnese) first heard Francis preach, next to which she lived, and at which she was first interred after making her transition. The inside of this church is in the High Gothic style, with pale beige-grey pillars, stained glass, and wooden chairs. The typical side altars are present, full of brass and gold illumination and candles. Such a far cry from its Romanesque origins. I know that Santa Chiara doesn't care anymore, but I feel the residual echoes of an 800 year old distress.

We walk in and there on 'Mary's side' [left] where I sat as a three-year-old child with neighbours, is a little child, in a Sunday frock, gloves, and small chaplet pinned to long hair. If I had dressed my daughter so, it would be her. But I know it is myself. and I know to whence this meeting is 'ever tending'. She is just sitting, quietly, as instructed, not fidgeting. I feel the power of the place, even as I do in 3D churches, the power of ritual, and faith, and the equally powerful peaceful quiet. If I were orthodox, I would spend a few aeons here too, as the inhabitants of this Belief System do.

Joe and Maggie have stayed a little behind, sitting a few rows behind. They think I can handle this.
I walk up to the row, and address the child by name in quiet tones, but she looks up and hushes me, whispering.
D: we are sposed to wait qui-et-ly.
K: I will be quiet.
I promise.
K: Where are the others you came with?
D: They went out. They will come back.
K: did they tell you to wait?
She looks doubtful.
D: no. but Jesus is still there so I can't leave him alone. Somebody has to be here if he's out.
She points to the monstrance on the altar. Shades of St. Clare are a tolling bell in my mind, remaining at vigil all night, lying on the cold stone floor. Making herself ill with fasting and mortification. So ill that she remained in bed half her life. Thinking quickly, I realise that I need someone to stay here in her stead so I can take her to the Children's Centre.

I look up, towards the vestibule, and  - I am in tears - striding in from the brilliant sunlight is Claire, my HS, dressed in the white and beige clothes of St. Clare's first days as a nun, her hair all covered. She reaches us and gives me a sparkling glance, before coming to sit in the chair before the child.
C: hello little one! What a nice girl to sit with Jesus for me! I was busy, but now I am back and you can go home with your neighbours here.
She gestures to Joe and Maggie, who don't look in the least like my childhood neighbours.
The child looks up at Claire in awe.
D: you are a sister!
Claire nods.
C: I am an enclosed nun, that means I don't leave my church and have bare feet. See?
She lifts the hem of her gown and shows a slender, aristocratic foot. The child giggles, as was her plan.
D: We play nuns. My friend and me.
C: That's very good.

There is a pause. The child is frowning. Claire is very good with children, I begin to see. Like Sister Luke in The Nun's Story, like Maria von Trapp...
C: is something wrong, little one?
D: The mass was very wrong today.
C: What do you mean, wrong?
D: The old priest was facing the wrong way, and speaking English, and there were guitars instead of the organ, and they stood instead of kneeling, up there -
She points to the altar rail.
Claire glances at me. I'm feeling it too, confusion, outrage, grief. This isn't what I came here [to the Roman Church] for. I came because it reminded me of Assisi... and now it's ruined. A thousand years of tradition, ruined for lucre. Claire thinks at me: 'It was no different in Assisi. That's what we were about, protesting.' To the child she says, sweetly,
C: that was just a special Mass. They will go back to the right way next time.
She pats her hand.
C: But YOU have been here such a good girl for a very long time, and you should go home and have your lunch. Maybe even some ice-cream -
She looks up at me, and I nod.
C: You can go with my sister Catherine here and she will make sure that you get home safely.
I nod, smiling at the subterfuge.
K: Yes, Mother.
D: Okay.
The child speaks with determination.
D: But they better not ever do that again, 'cause it was wrong. It wasn't special or holy, and everybody was talking like a picnic.
Out of the mouths of babes. She gets down from her chair and I take her hand.
K: Let's go have some nice ice-cream now. Thank you, Mother Clare.
Her eyes are laughing.
C: don't be too long, my extern sister, or Agnese will lock the door.

We go out with Joe and Maggie into the brilliant sunshine, and quickly over to the Children's Center, where we deposit the child with the Matron. She is soon sitting in the refectory with some others newly arrived, and eating the promised ice-cream. I ask the Matron,
K: What will happen when the infant gets to her age?
Mn: Oh they will be merged. All the fragment-selves are merged until there is wholeness. You needn't worry.

***
I come from a very Catholic family on my Dad's side. That imprinting, along with my experiences as a religious (nun, priest) in former lives, was strong enough to draw me toward the Church as a tiny child, even though my adoptive family were non-religious Lutherans. I was so drawn that I announced my desire to become a Poor Clare at the age of 15. Because living barefoot and silent, getting up at 2 AM and working at a labourer's tasks is what every teenage girl thinks is bliss....

My sense of 'wrongness' on that fated day when Vatican II came to the parish was enough to cause a break in my psyche, and it has been a battle ever since with the Church, at least in my mind. I agree with Joseph Campbell, who said in his interview with Bill Moyers in The Power of Myth:

There’s been a reduction, a reduction, a reduction of ritual. Even in the Roman Catholic Church. My God, they’ve translated the Mass out of the ritual language into a language that has a lot of domestic associations. Every time…that I read the Latin of the Mass, I get that pitch again that it’s supposed to give, a language that throws you out of the field of your domesticity. The altar is turned so that the priest’s back is to you, and with him you address yourself outward [gestures upward with his hands] like that.

Now they’ve turned the altar around; [it] looks like Julia Child giving a demonstration—all homey and cozy. They’ve forgotten what the function of a ritual is: it’s to pitch you out, not to wrap you back in where you have been all the time.

I have been mistaken for a Fundamentalist Catholic because of this preference for the old ways. But it really goes back to immersing oneself in sacred space, back to Francis and Clare, and my Ancel in the Scriptorium at Salisbury (also in the Middle Ages.)

That fateful day in 1966 brought me into as much conflict with the Church as Francis and Clare ever were, or even Ancel in his small, local way. And into conflict within myself, because I felt that I had to Stand Vigilant against the incursions of the profane into the sacred. So much that I have been stuck there for almost 50 years, even though I do not believe in the dogma of the Catholic Church as promulgated. Passionate rants against the wrong turning of Vatican II - its good intentions, but bad application - clearly gave people the impression that I was a card-carrying member of the Society of St. Pius X. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Now, I can let St. Clare sit vigil. I no longer have that burden, taking me away from my tasks now. Clare can do it. I, this self, does not have to.

Retrieval: Preemie Self

I am in the EcoVillage, preparing to go retrieve some fragmented parts of the present consciousness. In the common area, I put out the intention and ask that any of our community who is willing and experienced who wish to come with me show up. To my surprise, Franz and Madame show up their Joe and Maggie guise, complete with hippie-ish clothes and jewellery. They are, in a manner, my 'parents' There, and better than anybody I suppose to come with me.

We travel down to the Recreation area, with its park like broad lawns and sunny vistas then down towards the Midlands. At the border Joe asks me in which order [of age] I wish to do this. I signal that I should like to do it in chronological age, and we progress over to the Rest Centre.

There in the quiet, calm sanitoria-like setting, we go to a plastic crib where a tiny infant is crying. It is very small – no longer than my hand – and a maroon colour. It is extremely premature, and looks almost like an alien. It is very upset, but its noises are gurgling and squeaking, rather than the squall of a full-born infant. This is my infant self, I recognise, frozen in time on the day of my sister's death, 19 March, 1963.

I feel VERY emotional, feeling all its grief and abandonment, as the only person it knew in this world is gone. I find my hand over my heart – a very frequent gesture of mine when distressed. ['why does the Minister hold his hand over his heart?' - Pearl Prynne, The Scarlet Letter]

M: you can pick her up.

Joe smiles encouragingly. I feel an intense longing for my sister. I can't do this alone.

K:I want Amy!

Amy appears, in bohemian attire, with her dark blonde hair unbound in fuzzy spirals. She puts her hand on my shoulder and nods. Carefully, I pick up the tiny baby, poor little baby self! And bring it near. I pick up the little blanket – the size of a dinner napkin – and put over it. I have always hated hearing little babies cry. I talk to it, and so does Amy, and sway in the way every mother does with babies.

K/A: hush little baby! There's no need to cry! See, sissy is here with you! You are not alone! You will never be alone any more! You will be taken care of and Sissy and I will visit you often!

Joe and Maggie are looking on with loving expressions, and though I am pouring tears, I feel the attention of the tiny baby shift, and I look at her.

She is looking at me with very dark, indigo eyes with silver streaks. She has no lashes or brow yet, nor fingernails. But she is aware, and gazes at me intently. I know that she has understood me.

K: What do we do now?

I don't know if I am supposed to take her to my parents, the staff here, or what.

J: Everything is ready to go, all her little things. You can bring her to the Children's Centre right now.

The Children's Centre is where those who have died as infants or children go to 'grow up' and continue on their lives here. They are cared for by older people, and are largely removed from the Education centres, but are sometimes seen in packs on the lawn of the recreation area, like an eternal manifestation of Neverland (except they do grow up). I am overcome again with emotion. I have always loved 'Peter and Wendy'... Another resonance! Leading back to that day of death, when I had to soldier on alone here.

But she is alone no more. And never will be again.

Joe leads us over to the attendant's area, where there is indeed a little case and an old fashioned little blue dress (very like to one I dressed my own daughter in at her first visit from her godmother.)

Amy and I dress her and wrap her.

A: like playing dolls

She is smiling.

I thank the attendant for caring for her and we go out the side door near into the brilliant sunshine. In a moment we all four of us are at the Children's Centre, where the gate attendant is waiting, smiling.

CCA: we were told to expect you!

They look at our 'little dolly' [Claire's phrase for ME to George!] with a smile.

CCA: such a pretty girl! Oh don't you worry, she'll be fine! Patricia was here too when she came, isn't that right, Amy?

I turn, and Amy is beaming, nodding and smiling and teary with happiness.

A: Oh yes! They took such good care of her, Claire! You'll see! She'll be so happy!

She hugs me, and shows me that Patricia is waiting in a little English Cotswolds cottage in the residential area in 5 [the 5^th Dimension, F32]

A: when she is grown she and Patricia can live together, just like it was planned there!

She hugs me again because I am crying.

CCA: You can bring her in and see that's she's settled.

I look at Joe and Maggie.

Joe: We'll be right here.

Amy, the attendant and I go into the main building, which isn't at all like the horrible school that swallowed up Sarah Crewe in A Little Princess, which is what I was slightly afraid of [another resonance!] but is cheerful and full of light and flowers, with children running up and down the halls and stairs. I look in one of the rooms and the children are all happily working on projects, like a Montessori school.

The Matron comes out from her office. She is young and pretty, with dark hair and a flowing white dress and jangling bracelets.

Mn: Hello, Claire! Hello Amy I'm so glad you came! And this is the little one!

She comes and looks, smiling, then says to the attendant,

Mn: Thank you Jezriel! You can go along now. We'll be fine.

She looks at me.

Mn: You understand that we don't isolate the babies here? Come I'll show you our nursery!

We follow her to a back room on the ground floor, which is very sunny. The babies indeed sleep all together in large cribs on the floor, like playpens, full of soft blankets and toys. The very little ones are kept in smaller beds, also on the floor, by twos and threes.

A: so you see, she shall indeed never be alone or lonely.

The Matron explains the daily routine, which includes music and colours and interaction with animals once the babies are old enough. There is exercise, and walks in prams in the sunshine, and continual loving interaction by the attendants, some of whom are young, some of whom are soft doughy grandmotherly types.

Down the hall, I see the dormitory for the slightly older children. Again, it is on the model of group beds. Matron says,

Mn: because our experience shows that is what the children want, until they are well into their teens.

After viewing the classrooms and other dormitories, the petting zoo and garden, I am satisfied that my little baby self will be well-nurtured. But the time has come to leave her here and I am finding it very difficult, despite the assurances.

My mother appears, in her beautiful Kim Novakesque guise.

K: I know how hard it was, Mutti!

She smiles and embraces me.

N: I know, sweetie. [That is what I call my own children...]

She is teary too, looking at the little baby as she last saw her.

N: but she will be all right here, and you and I and Patty will visit.

At her voice, the little baby looks up, transfixed.

N: See, she knows me.

She touches the little head, then kisses it, gesturing that I and Amy should do the same.

We do and Mutti says to the Matron,

N: There you are now, Marisa. I think we are ready.

We all look at each other, Mutti Amy and I, three grown women, and I realise that we haven't done this before, haven't been together since those long ago days. Many embraces and loving tears later, Amy and I hand over Baby Self to Marisa the Matron, who treats her very gently and lovingly, and we turn to go.

At the gates, Joe and Maggie are right there, as promised.

They greet my mother warmly

J/M: hello dear Natalie, you look so well. It's so nice to see you again!

They all exchange embraces, chatting happily.

Then Joe turns to me.

Joe: So, little one, are you ready to go back now?

He looks across the fields towards the Eco Village.

Joe: the gathering will be going on when we get back, and you and Amy can share your success with everyone.

He is smiling broadly, encouragingly.

Maggie takes up my hand

M: You did splendidly!

She squeezes my hand hard.

I bid farewell to my mother and the four of us move quickly over the landscape towards home.

Confirm

This from over on Bruce Moen's forum:
"Hey folks. This sorta fits in with the theme of the thread. I only found this website through lurking on other forums. GMan

"Montalk Website, article written by Tom the Admin-Owner

"Beyond the material world, beyond the common rules, limitations, and assumptions we take upon ourselves, resides a greater spiritual reality operating under a set of higher principles that can help us transcend foolishness, strife, and drudgery. Knowledge limited to the physical world and bounded by the shortcomings of our five senses is not enough to attain freedom. Metaphysics is the study of higher knowledge, the deeper truths of life. We only have to recognize these higher truths and live by them to rise beyond old behavioral patterns and access a new vista of inconceivably wonderful possibilities.

All is Mind:

    Everything is consciousness, and all consciousness shares a common source. It is the ultimate center, the initiator of all causes, the core perceiver, the chooser.

    Consciousness is the dreamer (Creator), the dreamed (individualized consciousness), and the dreamscape (matter, space, energy, and time). There is no difference between reality and dreams except that reality involves mass consciousness holding the rules of reality rigid, whereas in dreams usually only the personal subconscious does so. Just as thought underlies objects in dreams, so does thought form the basis of matter in waking reality.

    Creation is infinite, composed of a unified infinite being (the Creator) and its expression as an infinite variety of finite beings. Stated another way, the Creator is an infinite being exploring its infinite potential through an infinite number of finite avenues. While individual evolutionary paths begin and end – beginning as the first stirring of awareness among primal matter and ending in unified congruency with the Creator – the grand experiment itself is without beginning or end because there are an infinite number of these paths.

    Because all life shares a common source, all life is interrelated and of equal worth. Only the expression of the underlying source differs from one lifeform to another. To differing degrees, each lifeform is endowed with freewill, the potential ability to choose independently of another being’s choice. Freewill adds a wildcard factor that makes the grand experiment interesting instead of boringly deterministic.

    Existence is both holographic and fractal in nature. It is holographic in the sense that all possibilities exist simultaneously and timelessly, while our individual consciousness interfering with this static pattern is what generates the illusion of dynamic experience. In other words, it is we who move through the static pattern, the dreamscape projected by the Creator. Existence is fractal in the sense that freewill requires discontinuities and inconceivable complexities in this static web of possibilities. A fractal exists as a static pattern created from a deterministic equation, but due to the infinite complexity of a fractal, its exploration by a conscious perceiver becomes an nondeterministic affair. And thus the game of life can be characterized by freewill even though the gameboard itself is static and deterministic.

    Progress arises when freewill moderates the interaction between two opposite forces. This forms a trinity generically composed of an active force, passive force, and neutralizing or balancing force. This trinity can be found everywhere that progress is to be found. For example, the tension of a string comprises the active force, inertia of the string creates the passive force, and the musician is the balancing force. From this is born music. Within individuals, the lower impulses form the passive force, higher spiritual callings of the heart form the active force, and you – the incarnated consciousness – form the balancing force by choosing between these two opposite polarities. From this is born the progress of your personal evolution. Even the fractal boundary of the Mandelbrot set acquires its infinite complexity by being the balancing point beyond two opposing mathematical values, the finite and the infinite – which ties back into reality being a fractal hologram.

Good and Evil:

    Choice allows one to serve the Creator within oneself by exploiting others or by serving the Creator within others. The first path is identifed as evil/darkness/negativity while the second path one associates with good/light/positivity. This sets up two branches of evolution – one that works against the laws of Creation and one that works with and for it. Both ultimately serve the Creator’s exploration of self, but only the positive path does so in a balanced manner. The tension between these two evolutionary paths enriches the grand experiment and provides the impetus for evolution by both sides.

    As Goethe wrote, the dark force “wills forever evil yet does forever good.” The self-serving path, despite giving the individual personal power, also puts him in unwitting subservience to higher powers. The highest power of all is the Creator, which those of the dark hierarchy unwittingly serve by providing the grand experiment with the passive force necessary for evolution. They provide the darkness against which the light stands out. Lucifer is referred to as the “lightbringer” because through self-serving actions, manipulation, and infliction of pain, self-serving individuals unwittingly give others the opportunity to see the light.

Cosmology:

    Finite consciousness can be classified into an octave scale of conscious development. This octave arises naturally because consciousness is vibration, and vibration strung between a beginning point (as matter) and ending point (as unity with the Creator) sets up a scale. This scale consists of eight notes: do re mi fa so la si do. The first note signifies sleeping consciousness and the last note represents active consciousness – and notice that these notes have the same name, illustrating how sleeping and active consciousness are just two expressions of the same infinite consciousness. The space between two notes on this evolutionary scale is called a “density” and there are seven total densities, each encompassing a particular class of conscious development. The higher densities have higher vibrations of consciousness and are more evolved.

    Whereas densities categorize different evolutionary levels of the dreamed, the terms “spacetime” and “timespace” classify different aspects of the dreamscape. Spacetime is the arena of causal interaction better known as physicality, where two or more beings interact while bound by a common set of physical laws. Spacetime is where experiences occur and lessons are learned – the ground, the battlefield, the classroom. By contrast, timespace is the sky, the command center, the teacher’s office. It is where individual beings have a bird’s eye view of what occurs in spacetime, providing a still point of contemplation, reflection, and planning of further spacetime experiences. This is the state one enters in between physical incarnations. The lower densities exist primarily in spacetime while the higher densities choose to exist almost exclusively in timespace.

Personal Spiritual Evolution:

    Upon incarnating into a physical body, we experience an occultation of awareness and forget who we are. Then social conditioning and biological impulses graft a false identity upon us that is in total discord with our true spiritual nature. Most people wear this false identity for life and fail to recognize and fulfill their true reasons for incarnating. But for others, intuition and experiences help them realize that there is more to life than the material world (matrix) admits. Throughout life these individuals experience higher impulses guiding them toward becoming lucid in this dream, while simultaneously lower impulses beckon them toward sleep. For those who consistently listen to their higher impulses, inner and outer life transforms and begins to operate under divine instead of material laws, removing limitations of the latter and opening up new possibilities. This is the process of transcending the matrix, using higher laws to override lower ones by developing and purifying one’s internal nature to resonate with higher realms of existence. This is a prerequisite for fulfilling one’s potential.""