Stories from BEYOND

by | Apr 2, 2020


As a child, we spend so much time running after other people’s legs. We see calves and ankles, trousers and kneecaps and we do our utmost to keep up. Sometimes, we give up and sit down and make a loud noise, hoping that ‘someone’ will have pity on us and pick us up. This works for a while, until we become too heavy and then it is up to us, to keep going or remain where we are. 

Well, chasing a dream or an ideal is no different and lands us right back there, immersed within the above scenario once again. The dream idea usually bolts away from us and has a speed that it naturally belongs too. If it is a naturally casual dream idea, it goes at a speed that is elegant and easy to keep up with . . . much like learning to walk amongst snails. However, super-sonic dreams, loaded with potential and roaring to get going, lack the luxury of ‘bad-hair-days’ and have a very limited tolerance for negative emotions, such as doubt. It is like trying to walk amongst cheetahs and road-runners, who have no though to slowing down and allowing you to take your time. You are expected to go from the cradle to full speed in no time.

How do you know which one you are unfolding at the moment, you may ask? The symptoms are easy . . .

If yours is super-sonic, a single thought will manifest almost immediately. I negative emotion will plunge you into unwellness within hours or a day. Good luck will turn into bad luck in a heartbeat if you are not focused and if the . . . little insecure and doubtful you, tries to get in the way – hold onto your pants!  A force will collide with you and you will not have seen it coming! You world will be turned upside down and chaos will erupt all around you.


Because dreams have momentum too! They want to be experienced. They want to be expressed and they want life. So much so that they may want it more than you do! If a dream gains momentum . . . it will stop at nothing to BE. How is this known you may ask?

Ask Cinderella’s dream, it used a glass slipper, to harness a prince and move a kingdom to find her! Make sure that you are ready for your dream, super-sonic or not!


Tears fell this morning . . . I felt like crumbling down as the realisation filtered down into my mind and heart. For weeks I had secretly placed a bowl of small seeds down upon the balcony floor, for an elderly . . . no frail . . . cockatoo. It was obvious that most of his great wing feathers were missing and his beak was twisted with age, making it nearly impossible to eat anything substantial. 

I watched him day after day trying to take off to join the flock, as they took to the skies for the night and his gallant efforts to follow them. It came to my attention that he could not lift off, as his strength and feathers were dismal and failing and yet I watched him make his way from one side of the house to the other, across chairs and tables. I placed objects so that he could climb up onto the balcony rail and I purposefully placed water and seed everywhere in his path. Each sunrise he was there calling to me near my office window and I would take him food and stand guard whilst the other birds waited to steal from him. 

I thought that he lived around my house, so that he could find the easy food that I left him and I thought nothing much else . . . until today. I heard a noise on the roof near the gutter and walked out to see what it was. From beneath the balcony roof, I saw dirty tail feathers sticking out and a mischievous thought made me reach up gently to scratch the owner’s tail. 

The bird got a fright and took off and barely made the lowest point of a banana leaf across the yard and clung on for dear life. It was then that I realised that it was the old bird that I had scared. I walked down to the garden, to watch him fly again but noticed that he was clawing his way up the leaf towards the highest point. His beak, so twisted, was barely a resource and he slowly moved from small branch to twig in the hopes of gaining height. He jumped once or twice across small gaps between interlocking branches and went from tree to tree, to reach a height, which any other bird would not pause to consider. 

Finally, he made it to the lowest branch of a nearby Eucalyptus and there he rested.  It has taken an hour for him to reach the branch . . .

Three hours later, I spotted him outside the window and it was then that I realised that his daily visits to my window, took him hours to accomplish and all for a handful of seed and a little water. 

Whilst all his feathered friends were flying freely amidst the gum trees and picking their way through the neighbours fruit, he was climbing to reach a place that made him feel safe and gave him some easy food. What we take for granted! When we have the wings to reach for the stars and achieve great things, we barely give a moments consideration for the gifts that we have. 

It is only when we have lost the ability to fly, that we cry for the feeling of the wind beneath our wings. It is only when we have lost our legs that we mourn for a chance to climb a mountain. It is only when we have lost our dreams when realise that we allowed doubt to steal from us. It is only when a loved one dies that we mourn the days lost in anger and blame. It is only when we lose our job that we learn to be grateful once again. It is only when we lose our health that we are forced to live healthily. It is only when love leaves our space that we know what being alone is. 

We take so much for granted . . . the good and the bad. We live as if it is all going to be there forever and we do not appreciate it when it is right on our doorstep . . .


They say, ‘what you don’t know, won’t hurt you!’ and I will disagree. It is not that the missing information will hurt you directly . . . it is more that the absence of it will cause you to take a long and often painful walk through countless lessons.

Lessons that could have been shortened or terminated by knowledge or wisdom and digested into the flesh and bones of the living being, as a canvas of experience. What we learn from others, who are perhaps only one step ahead, casts a valuable light on what is to come and we are less surprised.

At first, we adopt ideas and adapt ourselves to them in the absence of our own originals . . . and we live them in relief and minimal gratitude. We have become an abdicated people who have not learnt to shatter the ideas of others and begun to create our own . . . we are too afraid . . . too timid. The idea of who we are is slowly revealed to us as we grow up and they are themselves, the reflections of others who live by someone else’s ideals. We thankfully migrate from our formative ideals to our worldly ones . . . again . . . the reflections of others who live by someone else’s ideals. 

Reflections upon reflections until we no longer have a bare and exposed piece of knowledge at our disposal . . . all smoke screens and mirrors and very little truth to ply out the thorns of ignorance. Truth – as a witness – exposes all that corrupts, covers, adds upon, layers, hides, confuses and mimics and stands naked upon a hill. It is seen and conviction lays the Soul bare, and in the naked stillness . . . the transparency of its acute clarity . . . the reflections and mirrors, the ideals and ideas collapse into nothing.

For they were simply the workings of manipulation and their design induced to fool the foolish. Ignorance . . . can hurt and it can prolong what would have been a momentary experience into a life of heartache.

Learn . . . about yourself only from those who stand naked and leave a trail of feathers so light they are carried by the slightest breeze. 


Environments don’t make a person! 

They offer opportunities to everyone who is housed within them, whether it be for a brief moment or a long time. Every environment welcomes people and like a holodeck, (computer-simulated physical environment) they showcase certain features for the pleasure or dis-pleasure of the visitor. In one environment, a family, lives within the walls of a pleasant house, with a garden and five members and they are generally thought to be ‘happy’. In another environment, a family, lives in poverty under a bridge and as they struggle to keep warm, they give generously to those in similar circumstances. In a third environment, a dysfunctional family, lives in wealthy surrounds, barely seeing each other and seldom expressing terms of endearment, whilst spending money on frivolous things. Whilst these are only a few of the examples and wealthy people can be happy and poor people can be misers, each represents an environment of potentials. 

We find ourselves placed within environments from birth and it is rare to find someone who does not have a gripe about how, where or when they grew up. The fact is . . . they survived the environment! They emerged with something valuable and it is the lack of ignorance that ushers a person towards understanding why they created the environment in the first place! The first step towards self mastery, is to acknowledge that you survived your environment and this applies to past and current ones too. 

Environments don’t make a person! The choices they make about themselves in the environment, make the person! Every environment is a petri dish of potential. You choose to play on the stage, you act in the drama, in a role which suits you and you are listed in the end credits. Many choose to be the victim, the tyrant, the controller, the snitch, the betrayer, the defiant, the loser, the helpless, the powerless, the jealous and the deceiver. Like wise, the rest choose to be the lover, the helper, the leader, the adventurer, the powerful, the loyalist, the trustworthy, the observer and the achiever. 

Take your pick!

You define yourself in every environment . . . even if you were stranded on a deserted island. You get to choose between the lost and deserted or the solitary and found. How you choose, is decided by your thoughts while you explore that particular environment. If you don’t like the holodeck that you have chosen . . . leave. Think a different line of thoughts about yourself and give yourself a role termination orderGo and find a new environment.


We rush at the chance to meet the majestic and come face to face

with its reverent presence,

forgetting that lagging somewhere in the footsteps of ourselves

. . . is our little conscious self.

For a moment, it falls behind . . .

and its left weeping and straining to apply every effort to catch up and be a part of the dance ahead.

It cannot run any faster nor can it apply itself anymore and it struggles to come to terms with its limitations and lack of ‘lightitude©.’ It is more than equal to the task here on the ground in this sub-aware landscape . . . but high in the altitudes of spiritual awakening, it breathes heavy and groans. As the altitude reaches a new matrix of understanding, the little self barely crosses the line and holds on with every rope that it can find. It is willing to hang the the Self that climbs so easily and effortlessly but its cries of rage and manipulation, helplessness and powerlessness are met with a stark vacuum and it succumbs. 

It surrenders and sits down among the tombstones that were left behind by the Self at the summit and weeps at its ignorance and ineptitude. It did all that it could and more . . . it studied and learnt, applied and suffered, went without and released and now here just below the freezing line, it has nothing more to give . .  or to do.

The little self gives up . . . finally

Nothing . . .

A vast whiteness and a blank canvas . . .

And a soft voice in the distance from somewhere way up high. 

‘I will be down periodically and we can journey down the mountain together,’ is heard on the wind. The little self stands up feeling hope and peace.

‘I will do everything from now on and you can simply enjoy our experiences and make tiny decisions that require no effort. Your burden is light and your yoke is easy and you have a willing companion. In return – I will see the world through your eyes and experience what life has to offer through you . . .’ was heard by the little self.

There was a chuckle and the little self stood and looked out at the vast vista for the first time . . . with appreciation and gratitude.


And so you arise from your slumber one morning . . . you discover that the world has gone! You awaken not to the sounds of your old heart and its distant groans of love lost, or the rhythms of sad arteries pumping the sludge of animosity and regret, nor the corridors of voices and their insistent echoes of righteousness. There is nothing.

It is a silence that is devoid of answers and questions, directions and reasons and it reminds you momentarily of a pause in the universe . . . a moment when God takes a breath on your behalf. 

A moment when you do not have to breathe the life that once was . . .

Then you slip into the next breath and you inhale deeply . . . a fresh new air that is barely recognisable . . . enters. It has a fragrance of something imagined, yet not understood and you gasp to allow it to fill your form. The flooding of light speeds down every vein, into every crevice and through all pathways, as it brings the harmonies of a divine resonance of sound. 

It is acutely agonising as the remnants of dark corners and forgotten nightmares are seen for what they are, and as they take flight and flee forever, the radiance lifts the Soul even higher. A deep beating of a heartfelt drum brings the accompaniment of organs into a Celebration of Life rhythm and the whole world is changed. You know not who you were . . . you know only that you are and will continue to unfold into what you are becoming.


I rushed, armed into freedom, with all of my body and mind

I waged war upon my past and the ghosts of my failures

I fought anxieties and doubts with the sword of freedom

I battled the denizens of childhood and puberty galore

And saw to it that my faults were addressed and dissolved

And my stressors and angers wiped clean from my Soul

I purged all the guilty and forgave all those that trespassed

And then finally, I had the FREEDOM FROM it all . . .

. . . and then?

Once free from what hindered me –

I transfigured into someone new and I now had the FREEDOM TO  . . .

What a dilemma indeed!

No longer purging, transmuting and cleansing.

No more dissolving, clearing and spurging.

None of that dismantling, transforming or ash.

No garbage or rubbish or buckets of trash.

The slate was clean and the materials were new

I had the freedom to decide, to choose and to live

To have and to hold each day in perpetual bliss

Nothing too big or too small, too long or too short

No encumbrances or limitations and none to quit

Be a giant or a mouse but do it with panache

Be a mountain or molehill and enjoy each moment

Once FREE FROM all that was – I was FREE TO be myself.


Our attempt to live up to the natural inner state of immortality has us saving pennies for another day. We find ourselves taking care of our vehicle and sparing another the honesty that they truly deserve, just to profit from tomorrow’s continuity.

What if we went beyond the dictated beliefs of immortality and began to run the risk of touching this intrinsic part of our natural selves?

What if we surrendered our petty penny pinching and actually grasped raw prosperity?

What if we surrendered our desperate rebellious struggles and actually grasped raw freedom?

What if we surrendered our conditional romantic emotions and actually grasped raw love?

What if we surrendered our humdrum calming techniques and actually grasped raw peace?

What if we surrendered our melodrama of meanings and actually grasped raw knowing?

What if we surrendered our frantic imposed stillness and actually grasped raw silence?

What if we surrendered our preconceived known ideas and actually grasped raw intelligence?

What if we surrendered our genetic pro-creative urges and actually grasped raw immortality?

Watered down by the parameters of dictated beliefs, we live in the hope that our feeble attempts out-live us . . . that we will somehow be remembered for the colours that imbued our lives. 

Not now . . . not even in the next generation . . . but in times beyond the horizon when our great grandchildren have our eyes and see how we of the past spent our precious time! They live with the results thereof . . . we cannot hide!

So why not grasp immortality by the hand and take a walk into the inner landscapes, where the horizons of tomorrow are cast with hues that cannot be numbered? No longer forging generations who glance back in despair at their inherited lot . . . we become a people who leave no footprints in mortal sands.

Long ago . . . we glanced forward into mortal futures and saw an endless stream of options and we stopped . . . all longing and desire ceased. Immortal to our core, we grasped the raw essence of our eternal nature.


“It is quite insignificant . . . the keeper of our lives! It shouts the loudest, drowns out the sweetness from the silence of the unknown and holds us hostage. As it draws upon the canvas of our lives, it focuses our attention upon its linear way of thinking and when we become momentarily free of its one track mind, a squiggle of chaos erupts and we are forced to involve ourselves in the entanglement of its judgments. It always makes a point when it wants to draw our consciousness to the small and mundane, where it has gathered incalculable illustrations of who it wants us to be in the moment. 

We lie cringing at the tiniest tip of a tyrant, only capable of making a temporal mark upon an illusion of parchment. It draws upon ideas that we have created or allowed and mimics them . . . a copycat for sure. Nothing but tracing paper images, re-drawn for each occasion where necessary. We observe the drawings all around us – in the way people repeat their behavior, their addictions and the objects that we see tweaked by a line and offered as original masterpieces. Nothing new really . . . just different lines and twirls and swirls that appear in the lines of our lives. People, drawn to perfection . . . or not . . . come and go and carry their story, showcasing their lines and then disappear off the page. 

We engage these drawings and speak to them as if they know that they are lines . . . only penciled in . . . and erased at the end of their time but they believe that they are real and etched in ink – forever. We believe we are real and not pencil lines and we listen to the artist, who sketches us day to day, using the dark streaks of a labored hand. Or, the light streaks from time to time on a parchment that sits on an easel at a window in the sun. Instead – having realized that the lead tip of a tyrant should not become the story of our lives, we allow the gentle or harsh lines to appear for a moment.

We allow and accept the lines and encourage the artist to turn the lead into ink instead . . . making them appear so permanent and unchanging. For the briefest moment there is hesitation and then the ink begins to flow and everything seems so magnified and real. Our consciousness . . . enchanted by the aspects not etched, not drawn, incapable of being a single line, begins to observe the ink and as we become purified and clear, transparent and accepting, the ink becomes invisible.

Staying true and allowing the story to be drawn, we weave its nature and its becomes immersed in the mystery of what we are and the tyrant ever caught in its linear focus, idly draws away as we disappear into the story that is untold and magical.”


I think that I speak for myself as a unified front.

I imagine that I alone make all my decisions, mistakes and take great care to speak my success. 

I am me . . . I am one . . . or so I thought just because I had one name!

But that’s not true is it? I have many names beginning at the birth one, then progressing through the naughty names when I was bad and the good names when I was obedient. After that, I became a number of names to different friends and according to my face and social crowd – I became idiot, troll, witch, bitch, whore, ho, tomboy, and many more unmentionables. I – the one – had gained momentum and I was fast becoming a village all on my own. Then the serious ones began to arrive in my reality and I was then daughter, mother, wife, ex-wife, sister, colleague, teacher and friend and my sense of ‘I’ was running downhill at a rate too fast to stop. 

I looked back and barely caught a glimpse of the original ‘one’ left behind to make space for the rest. 

I decided to work upon myself to make sense of all the confusion and to get a grip on why my life was so up and down and indescribably chaotic. I looked at me and realised that my village had become a crown that I wore on my head and I was at the head, I was the village leader and the voices of my villagers were loud and beseeching. I could not ignore them for they knew too much about me and they could blackmail me and hold me to ransom. They knew where I would cave and why and they told me what to do and all the while I looked out upon the gathering masses to see where my original One was. 

No where to be seen.

At that moment I knew that I had lost my sense of self and my village had taken over and I was a puppet longing to be free from the entanglements and responsibilities. Responsibilities that made me take everyone of those villagers into consideration but never myself . . .

I had to find her – she held the key – she was the original. She was not my parent’s voice, nor my teacher’s. She was not my partners voice nor my guilt and doubt . . . She did not know doubt . . . she was left behind long ago when there was no doubt and fear and loss and grief and guilt and obligation and . . . and . . 

She was my One. 

I had become Legion and it was time to mute all the inhabitants of my village, so that I could hear her when she answered my call.


In a vast expanse of timeless space, teetering on the brink of the inexplicable void . . . God contemplated one thought.

‘What AM I?’

Illuminated . . . an endless cosmic ocean current of divine sparks rushed forth to understand that immense contemplation. To experience . . . to know for itself the meaning of what It was. In nature, God is eternal, omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotence and therefore without ceasing or end. And so the sparks moved forward in an endless rush of unforgiving pursuit, eager to reach the ultimate answers and the more answers they found . . . the more questions they asked.

They would have gone on forever, further and further into the timeless and space-less expanses . . . never stopping . . . ever reaching . . . on and on. Into densities, gravities and conditions that are inexplicable and defy all abstract ideas, they would have plunged on, knowing no end.

Until . . . one new thought was released into their midst, which arrested all of them.

‘Miss me?’ uttered God.

All of creation and its drive and momentum came to a stand still . . . one brief moment of contemplation . . . and they turned and remembered from where they came. The first rush of loneliness seeped into their beingness and they longed for Home. The momentum of loneliness stopped the eternal seeking after what God was and in its place, appeared the great I AM and the answer was apparent.

‘I AM all things manifest and un-manifest, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. I AM that which cannot be spoken and that which can, and I . . . am what I AM.’

Each spark lost its drive for answers into the unknown and faced its Creator. With full acceptance that there were no more questions and all answers existed, one by one, they moved towards the beginning – to the first contemplation – and all that God knew . . . they knew too!


 “Do you imagine then, that God or the Higher Self is to be found upon a mountain top or between two rocks in a river valley? Or do you imagine that she is hidden deep in a temple made of jade or upon a prayer repeated hourly? Or perhaps you cast your eye towards another human such as yourself and you see only what you are not? Your gaze is blind and your thoughts empty of nourishment and your body wracked with death and decay if this is how you look!

Turn to where the world has no claim, where there is nothing to declare or prove, uphold or fight and where time stands still for a moment. It hides in plain sight just beneath what is seen and heard and waits forever with all the patience of a loving creator. Find the places where the world ends, where it jumps across the chasms of nothing . . .

It is universal in the synaptic clefts in every body, in the ebb and flow of every wave. It is between the in-breath and out-breath that there is a moment where nothing happens. It is in the awake and asleep states and the dawn and dusk where it is neither day nor darkness and it is between each thought. These tiny doorways into the eternal sunrise of the Self . . . unnoticed and unseen.

Every moment that you can remember, give these doorways your attention and surrender the world. Release your entire sensory little self and allow yourself to touch and be touched. Regardless of what you feel, sense or imagine – go there . . . be there. For each visit places a paving stone one by one until such a day when you will take your first step and then another. Become a walker in two worlds and catch the eternal sunrise!


“Good character recognises the carving knife of humility. It is like a bunch of grapes that has to be picked for a celebration. First, the grapes are inspected for quality and then any blemished grapes are removed before they can be placed upon the platter. Having no blemishes and being perfect, they are sweet to taste and can withstand any inspection. The best are picked to be made into wine . . . and the wine is to be presented at the wedding of a Soul united with its Creator. 

Do not despise the occasions when you are confronted by your ignorance and arrogance – bless the moments that you are corrected by the humble words of truth and do not hide with your broken spirit, for the cracked surface, allows the right amount of light to enter. 

When the light enters, the Soul lights up and is illuminated from within and as the personality falls away, the illuminated Soul begins to shine so brightly that they cannot contain themselves and the whole world benefits.

Do not be disheartened if you are not seen or heard by those who are blind and deaf. When you are ready to be seen, nothing on earth will stop your light and you will know the sweet taste of being recognised, chosen and presented before your Creator.”


What an enterprise! If I give you a little blame (for whatever you are supposed to have done), then you can give me a pinch of aggression in exchange. If I can take some control and domination . . . then you get to have a bucket of self pity and victimhood.

If I make you feel guilty . . . you owe me! And I will collect upon that debt and demand of you that you give me love so that I feel better about myself for a while. Don’t you point your finger at me and accuse me of being righteous and projecting, for I have a secret savings tucked away of all of your faults and weaknesses and by God, I will use them! I know you . . .

And because I know you, I own you . . .

I can pull your strings and demand that you dance to the tune of the piper and if you don’t, I will have such a tantrum that the heavens will shake! For you see, I too have stored up my own weak defenses and reasons for my behavior. My inner child is pampered and my adolescent is obnoxious and they will have their way. For if I do not bend to their needs and I begin to clear out my private emotional bank accounts, what will I have left? What will I fall back on when I am not filling my own cup . . . when I am not creating my own reality . . . when I am pretending to be anything other than dignified?

I have nothing.

I have not spent my livelihood on building self esteem and self love. I have not filled my coffers with dignity and patience and I have over looked the interest on my debts too. For the trades I have made, come with a heavy price and the guilt alone could cost me five lifetimes, let alone one. My apathy and arrogance don’t even allow me to have a key to the vault of treasures that I am assured awaits me . . . I must struggle with a joint savings plan and whilst I plow my goodness into it, you withdraw from it to feather your nest of doubt.

If only I had traded with a different currency . . . if only I had learnt to save in what was to be a long term deposit – an eternal one to be clear. If only I had turned a blind eye and a deaf ear and allowed you to gnaw away at your own bank account while I secretly saved in my own. I would have had gems of the rarest kind – emeralds of dignity, rubies of grace, sapphires of trust, diamonds of love, pearls of wisdom and opals of patience.

But alas! I live as an emotional pauper – stealing energy when I am empty and giving when I want to invest in a future expectation.


This is a dance!

It is the dance of impeccability and it is a monumental balancing act . . . Knowing when enough effort is enough. It is knowing when more effort is dangerously close to domination, control and martyrhood and learning to know the difference. Impeccability does away with the extras which we offer and the over-exhaustion of resources and it certainly curtails our intrinsic need to give too much. 

When is enough . . . enough?

When a question is answered and we offer only a succinct answer – not a whole history of reasons and justifications

When something is asked and we offer only the succinct response – not bogging it down with a list of how good we are and how much more we have done

When someone wants to cry and release emotions – and we let them, we don’t try to stop them because we are uncomfortable

When we see someone in need and we offer our help gently – and we take no for an answer or we do what is required, knowing we can’t save anyone.

When we have nothing precious to say – instead of needing to say something to be useful or opinionated.

When going the distance is a good thing – and we don’t second guess because we are in the right place and at the right time.

When we give just enough to boost someone – but not so much that we over-extend ourselves.

When we see what someone has done with what we have given them – and then we give them more, for their cup is empty and they have respected what they have been given.

When we learn from our reality and we don’t blame a single person – for anything


What if . . .

We got it ALL wrong?

What if, instead of learning everything about the world, we learnt to let it go, understanding that there was nothing new to learn anymore.

What if, we leapt out of our minds and into our hearts, to gather ourselves into a neat ball of potency, releasing all of our woes and tribulations.

What if, our bodies were simply a configuration of energy . . . and nothing more, giving us the opportunity to truly experience who we are.

What if, we were not creating or even co-creating, but instead, we simply relaxed into our desires and allowed them to be drawn  to us – effortlessly.

What if, we realised that we were on a treadmill, feverishly working getting somewhere through effort, but not getting anywhere at all.

What if, we stepped out of the chaos of life, designed by minds hoping to survive and we chose instead to live – I mean really live – needing nothing.

What if, it truly was about standing still and doing nothing, thinking nothing, saying nothing, and then accepting – graciously.

What if, Grace and Humility were sisters . . . not in divinity . . . but in humanity, but banished by the need to control and achieve, strive and deceive.

What if, love in its true form was ruthless, cutting away all the dross and grime, allowing the Soul to breathe . . . wounded and bloody . . . but free.

What if, we got it all wrong? 


 [When I began this piece, I had ‘Kryon’s: A Journey Home’ – in mind and later came to realise that my own book, ‘Tomas of Terra’ has the same idea.

The journey that few take in a lifetime, always begins with a trek up a mountain and it becomes an extraordinary way of surrendering all the baggage that has been picked up over many lifetimes. The tough slopes of the Self, make it the perfect landscape to dip into the beliefs that cause doubt and the peaks to view the future with hope. The valleys cause us to hide and cringe at our inconsistencies and after we navigate the avalanches of emotional blockages, we are afforded a small vista from which to see a little way ahead. 

The journey is not without danger . . . lurking in each crevice and around each pinnacle, is the fear of the unknown. This almighty shadow of our imagined fears, stalks us relentlessly and we run for our lives, hide out of terror and truly doubt our ability to make it to the end. Dogged by this monster of our own doubts, we often lose sight of the journey’s end and we feel left out in the cold and alone. We even let go of the friend’s and family connections, and all the perceptions which we have tried to so hard to carry and please. 

As we negotiate our mirrors of Self reflection and bust every erroneous thought, belief and attitude, we begin to feel a little lighter and we drop every item which has always weighed us down. By the end of the journey, we drop the last stitch of clothing, which has hidden our true and natural state of fearlessness and love. Standing at the illuminated door, once we have crossed the bridge of beliefs and released our Self image once and for all, we knock once.

A naked transparency . . . in solitude . . . the door opens. 


Trying to grasp consciousness of any vibration is an impossible task. The reason that we can maintain the current consciousness which we have, is highly dependent upon this fact. This is the only one that is simulated to give us the sensation that we have control or can hold consciousness within our own hands. 

Have you ever tried to catch light?

Have you ever tried to hold the wind?

Have you ever tried to ensnare smoke?

You will know that they cannot be caught and held. When you feel like you have a grip on things, it means that your conscious mind has taken control and collapsed all the fields of unknown potential and whilst you feel temporarily stable, you won’t receive a new experience. 

You cannot hold higher vibrations in the same way that you hold or control this reality – it is never going to happen. The higher frequencies are held by a mind, which is capable of maintaining its nature, and there are no exceptions. 

Would you allow a grasshopper to raise a lion cub? 

Would you allow a dandelion to be a saint?

No . . . the nature of the mind determines the vibrations emanating through any thing or person. That is why academia is still the same conscious mind expanding horizontally, feeling as if it is growing, but not recognising that it is growing in the wrong direction. Academia used by the right mind, is a whole different cat altogether . . .

A day hemmed in prayer never unravels because, a day held by a mind focused on the sacred, remains vibrationally secure and on-track.

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