Stone on Stone

Image result for John Aubrey

John Aubrey, courtesy of Wiki

I have ‘Rosie’ (author of the brilliant La Tour Abolie site) to thank for introducing me to Ruth Scurr’s wonderful biography of John Aubrey.  It is, as Philip Pullman says on the cover, ‘Irresistible’.  I’m quite certain that if we hadn’t inconveniently lived 350 years apart, Mr Aubrey and myself would have found many common interests to converse about.

We share – across time – a keen interest in antiquities.  His discovery of the Aubrey holes at Stonehenge, his insistence that this structure was NOT a council chamber built by the Danes but dated back much further and his devotion to preserving what was left of Avebury before local residents could demolish any more of it to build their homes and walls are well known.  His jottings, meticulously collected and compiled by Scurr, though, tell so much more of this indefatigable gentleman.

He was not a meticulous diarist like Pepys.  He charted the English civil war, the rule of Cromwell, the Great Fire of London and other major events almost in passing.  There is a brief account of the Restoration of King Charles II, for example, but at that time, Aubrey had something more pressing on his mind.

In March 1660, you see, he acquired a ring containing ‘a curious Turkey, or turquoise stone’.  This stone fascinates him for years.  When the ring breaks, he decides not to have the stone remounted, in case the heat should cause damage to the crystal.  Why the fascination?  Well this is where the story – and time itself – become rather fuzzy…

As synchronicity would have it, I too acquired a curious crystal – in March of this year.  It’s the one I found mysteriously sitting on a path in my garden.  Three hundred and fifty-seven years apart, both Mr Aubrey and myself found ourselves pondering our respective stones with much interest and surprise.  We both noticed that areas of the stones which had been cloudy became inexplicably clear, while other areas clouded.  Our ponderings continued independently of each other until I reached the point in the book where he had made this discovery: a day or two after mine appeared.

Strange, I thought.

In the July, Aubrey records:

My turquoise ring has changed again.  Now the cloudy spot in the north of the ring has vanished entirely and the one in the south has lessened.

By October:

(It) has become cloudy again in the north and a little speck has appeared in the middle.

The following February he finds a halo has formed around the northern cloudy spot and determines to take it to Mr Robert Boyle, no less, who has an interest in ‘movement within stones’.  Sadly, there does not seem to be an account of this meeting, if it ever took place.  I’d love to have known Mr Boyle’s opinion.

So now, not only did I have my own curious stone to watch and contemplate, but Mr Aubrey’s turquoise to consider as well.  How could these solid objects go through such obvious changes?  Were we imagining it?  Was it simply dependent upon the light in which we viewed our respective stones?  And if it WAS happening… why?

Bubbles!

Then, last Friday morning, I woke to find the most amazing transformation in my stone.  There is a face, roughly the shape of a parallelogram, which had been a diffuse, swirling, misty purple.  Overnight, though, it had transformed to contain countless tiny, and very clear, bubbles.  Almost all of them contained a central tiny circle or dot, several of these being a deep red colour.  Some seemed near the surface while other appeared as if deep under water.  It resembled a clump of frogspawn, and gave me the distinct but illogical sense of new life forming.

It continues to change.  The ‘bubbles’ are still visible, but are gradually fading into the mists again.  I wonder what its next trick will be.

At the weekend I asked my friend Will to try a remote viewing of the crystal, asking him to search within it and hunt for impressions beyond the physical.  As he focused on it, he didn’t see the stone at all, but gained some clear impressions of shapes, colours and a landscape – a vast desert with hills or mountains in the far distance.  He also commented that time, and especially the future, felt relevant.

So what do you make of all that, dear reader?  Comments would be most welcome.

I’ve long felt that the distinction between living and non-living is wrong.  I subscribe to Seth’s view that all matter contains consciousness.  When I consider the enormous discoveries made by the late Masaru Emoto about memory in water, I wonder if we are on the brink of discovering similar properties in crystal.

How I wish I could chat this through with Mr Aubrey.  But then, who is to say I’m not doing so already, at some level of consciousness?  After all, I’m unable to account for how this pristine crystal appeared in the middle of my garden.  Maybe it was sent to me, or left by a passing etheric gentleman on horseback…

 

 

Mother

Bag Gypsofilia Seeds, Gypsophila, BagIt was Mothers’ Day here yesterday.  I say ‘here’ meaning the UK, because I know other countries celebrate it at other times.  Our Mothers’ Day changes each year – something to do with Easter wobbling about, which is something to do with the moon, I think.  Never really figured out what or why because it never really interested me that much.  All I know is that it often more-or-less coincides with my birthday, which means my offspring tend to send me some sort of greeting on one or the other, but rarely both.

This year the two dates were separated by a few weeks.  All three remembered the birthday.  For Mothers’ Day I received a text message and two phone calls, plus a DVD which arrived a week ago, it’s computer generated Amazon gift message proclaiming it to be an extra birthday/Mother’s Day gift.

I just didn’t rear the kind of kids who splash out on expensive mail order bouquets, trawl through Etsy for the perfect personalised gift and quirky card or spatter Facebook with multi-coloured ‘best mum ever’ photo collages covered in hearts and anaemic-looking teddy bears.  For that I’ll be eternally grateful.

No longer having a mother in the physical realm, I spent my Mothers’ Day communing with Mother Nature in my garden.  It was a glorious spring day and I was blissfully happy, up to my elbows in deep, dark loam, planting out a new herb bed, enjoying the nodding daffodils and clearing the grass from the ever-expanding clumps of primroses and cowslips that beam up from every cranny and corner.  My garden had a gift for me, too – a beautiful little tumbled crystal, just lying on the earth’s surface and waiting for me to find it.

In the evening, I sat down to watch the gift DVD – a sci-fi film called Arrival.  My youngest had selected it for me because he knew I would love it – intelligent, very cleverly constructed, with some fascinating takes on how language, communication and – most important of all – time itself works.  One line shone out and left me buzzing by the end.  It was something like: Imagine writing a sentence, using both hands, and starting from both ends at once.  You’d need to know everything that the sentence was going to contain in advance and you’d need to know exactly how much space to leave so that it met up perfectly.  You’d need to know the future.

Yes, my kids don’t shower me with trinkets on Mothers’ Day, but they know me very well.  I’m one lucky mother.

Super Powers

I don’t know how it works, and to tell the truth, I’m slightly embarrassed by it, but I am able to pick up – channel – information or wisdom from the non-physical.

Psychic, Psychics, Psychic ReadingLet me put this into context for you.  I live in Glastonbury, the hippy capital of England.  The place (much as I love it) is positively seething with people offering – for a price – soul readings, spirit readings, mediumship readings, life path readings, oracle readings, angel readings and countless other variations on the theme.  Then there are the endless lists of workshops and courses offering ascension, renewal, illumination, soul healing, just-about-anything-you-can-think-of healing, release from karma/ trauma/ tension/ retention and the list goes on, and on.  And there’s me – hardened cynic who neatly side-steps all the above – yet finds herself channelling, well, stuff that defies reason.

I have no problem with the esoteric, none at all.  I suppose it’s a bit like when I lived down the road from the Trebor sweet factory as a child; the sickly-sweet smell from the works so penetrated and overwhelmed my senses that I was never tempted by the delights of the sweet shop that so enticed my friends.

Anyhow, overwhelmed senses lead me rather neatly (and unexpectedly – didn’t plan it that way) into the latest message from Something Out There.

Train, Station, The Traffic Light, CloudBoth of us were feeling vaguely grumpy and frustrated yesterday afternoon.  The January weather was that damp chilly grey murk which didn’t improve our tempers.  I’d had bad news about a family member and was still feeling the reaction from that.  We were trying to have a discussion about where to go now with the remote viewing (again) and were just going round in circles.  I put forward ideas.  Will refused.  I asked him for his ideas.  He didn’t have any.  The idea that ‘theoretically’ he could view anything and that only his lack of self-belief was holding him back, was frustrating and annoying him.  We were on the point of giving up our conversation when I remembered something.

I can sometimes channel what I can only describe as his Higher Self.  This, er, entity? revealed itself to me a few years ago, when the physical Will had closed the door on all communications.  Quite suddenly, in a way I’m totally at a loss to explain, I found myself receiving astonishing and brilliant messages from this spiritual aspect of my friend – keen to explain that Will was alive and well, but currently not very identified with his physical persona and was occupied in other realms – astral travel and stuff like that.  The personality I was communicating with had distinct personality traits in common with the Will I knew so well, but was drawing on a knowledge base far beyond anything I had encountered.  He answered my questions and shared observations which astonished me.  He also told me when to expect a renewed acquaintance with the physical version, and it happened just as Higher Him had predicted.

You may be feeling at this point that I’m delusional at best, fraudulent at worst, and of course there’s nothing I can say to dissuade you.  All I know is that for me, it happened.

When Will began to chat to me again, through the usual physical channels of text and email, his Higher Self stepped back.  I would ask questions and, instead of spelling out all manner of answers, my pendulum simply circled mutely.  Oddly, it was that which convinced me more than anything that I hadn’t been inventing the whole thing with my mind.

Very recently, though, I did get through, telling Higher Him that it was ‘physical Will’ who wanted answers to his questions.  So yesterday I offered to act as go-between for Will and this higher aspect of him.

Pendulum, MetaphysicalHe wrote down some very specific and uncompromising questions: Should he keep working on remote viewing? If so, what aspect of it?  Most crucially, what steps should he take to improve his success? – And he did NOT want to be told anything about believing that he could do it!

So I opened up my computer, typed the questions, one by one, into Word, and used my crystal pendulum to dowse the responses.  I don’t go into trance.  I don’t need anyone else present.  I usually don’t know what is going to be spelled out, but I sometimes telepathically pick up the gist of what is coming, or the odd word here and there.  When asking about what he should do to improve, for example, I felt the word ‘lazy’ with a certain amount of humour, before receiving the full response.  I’d like to share just that part with you, because it brings up a point that may be of interest to other aspies and people with high sensitivity to sensory stimuli.

IF HE TRULY WANTS TO IMPROVE HE MUST BE LESS LAZY.  HE MUST FOCUS ON LIFTING HIS AWARENESS TO INCORPORATE ALL OF HIS SENSES.  HE HAS GROWN USED TO BLOCKING THEM IN HIS DAILY LIFE AS THEY ARE SO STRONG BUT THAT STRENGTH MEANS HE CAN PICK UP THE SUBTLE DETAILS WHEN VIEWING.

Head, Spiral, Self-ConfidenceStrong smells, loud sounds, the touch of certain textures against his skin – all those and more have caused Will distress throughout his life.  I know there are many fellow sufferers from sensory overload out there.  Probably, like Will, they have developed coping mechanisms to shut down or sideline these unwanted intrusions when possible.  The idea, though, that the strength of these perceptions actually make it easier for him than for most other people to pick up the infinitely fainter and subtler non-local sensory signals that come to psychics, telepaths and remote viewers was quite new to both of us.  It also makes perfect sense, now I think about it.

Next weekend, we’ll begin a series of multisensory viewings, using much of the other material provided to us in this rather magical way.

“How does the universe work?” The WhatsApp version

Texting, Boy, Teenager, Sitting, OutdoorI can’t do the double thumbs typing on my phone.  I’ve tried, but no.  It’s a single index finger, along with copious bouts of fury at the idiosyncrasies of predictive text.  So it’s slow.

I do enjoy a challenge, though, and when the titular question was posed to me on WhatsApp last weekend, I couldn’t resist the challenge.  Here, for anyone interested, is how the conversation went:

So I believe there is consciousness, OK?  Loads of it, which permeates every portion of the universe.That consciousness could also be called spirit, energy, God, All That Is and many other things.  Can you accept that?

Yes

Good.  so this consciousness vibrates at an incredibly high frequency.  Notice that the word ‘high’ there is not a synonym for good, holy, spiritual or any other value-laden stuff.  It’s just a level of vibration.  Got that?

Yes

Fine.  Well as I understand it, at that highest level of vibration, the consciousness is a single thing – God or Oneness or All That Is.  However it has the ability to step its vibration down.  Just like an electrical current or the spectrum of light, as its vibration changes, it has different properties.  Can you accept all that so far?

Yes

Phew, this is hard.  OK, so imagine the vibration lowering just a bit.  What happens then is that the Oneness separates out into individual parts.  They are holographic, so still contain the highest level of vibration within themselves.  It’s like saying that your brain is an individual thing but it’s still a part of you.  Are you comfortable with the idea that at a slightly lower vibration, consciousness is differentiated into what we can call spirits or maybe souls?

I’m understanding what you’re saying.

Well the consciousness can continue to adjust and step down its vibration to lower and lower levels.  Like musical notes, lower is not worse than higher, just different.  Humans mostly don’t get that and associate higher with better.  At each vibrational drop, consciousness becomes – how can I explain this?  It becomes less identified with the Oneness and more identified with individuation.  Does that make sense?

Yes

OK, so imagine we’ve worked through many of those lowerings and reached a point where the vibration is so far removed from the top, that the vibrational energy can form matter around itself.  I mean encase itself in matter – a physical body – and create physical stuff like land and buildings and so forth around it.  It is consciousness that creates all matter.  The matter has no independent existence.  Again, most humans can’t get that.  Can you?

Yes

Great.  So I’m now talking about consciousness at a human level.  However there are different vibrational levels within humanity.  It’s a matter of choice.  Some of us opted to live very gritty, physical lives, cutting off almost all awareness of the higher vibrations.  When they die, even those beings will return to high vibration, but for now, they’ve chosen to avoid it.  Other humans retain some awareness of higher vibration, while fully engaged with physicality.  Then there are the ones who have chosen not to get too caught up in being physical.  Parts of it totally disgust them.  Aspects of it overwhelm them and make them feel sick or anxious or uncomfortable.  They struggle to get along in the physical world and feel more comfortable with thought and with non-physical aspects of existence.

I can see what you’re saying

So these higher vibrational humans are trying to do something very special and difficult.  They are trying to bring high vibrational systems into physicality.  This is the big new evolutionary step, not just for humans, but for All That Is.  If we can successfully combine the two, we will quite literally have the best of all possible worlds.  THAT is what mystics and spirit guides and so forth are guiding us towards.  That is why psychic and metaphysical skills are so precious and wonderful.  Now do you get it?

Yes.

Good.  I’m shattered.  How did I do?

You conveyed your beliefs.  I’m not saying I disagreed with them.  I’m not saying I completely agree with it.  I haven’t tried to form an explanation to the workings of the universe

Maybe you should start…

 

When Worlds Collide

People, Bus, Commuting, Public TransportA three hour coach ride passes so much better when you find yourself seated next to someone interesting to chat to.

My neighbour yesterday was, it emerged, travelling to London for a brief, bittersweet half day with her daughter.  It was the girl’s birthday.  She’d booked herself into a posh hotel in the West End.  They were to have champagne, then lunch somewhere luxurious.  The daughter would unwrap her presents then – ‘a comfort sack’ with such items as a thick duvet, pillow and covers, hand warmers, hot chocolate mix…  Tomorrow the young lady will take all her spoils and return to Greece, where she works for the UN, caring for the refugees.
“It’s so desperately cold there, Mum,” she’d told her mother. “Just so desperate”.

Lesvos, Island, Mytilini, GreeceI wondered how it felt for that young woman to move between those two quite different worlds – her opulent English lifestyle and the squalor and tragedy of the transit camps.  How must the smells, the sounds, the sickness and pain feel to someone who has grown up in such a different culture?  How, indeed, must it feel for the inhabitants of the camps, wrenched from their lives in such violence and terror?

 

“And you?” my neighbour enquired.  “Why are you going to London?”

“Oh,” I said, with a slight smile, “I’m probably going to enjoy a few hours in the British Museum.  And I might be meeting a friend.”

Well it was a long journey, so gradually my story came out too.  If we did meet, it would be no less shocking and difficult a transition for my friend than her daughter’s move to Greece had been.

Sport, Exhausting, To Clench TeethJust as the refugee camps would seem overwhelmingly disgusting and sickening to us – their sights, smells and emotional charge far beyond what we feel able to cope with – so our world is, for people like my friend.  For him, and so many other super-sensitive people who live with autistic spectrum perception in its many and amazing forms, our world – in all its raw, visceral physicality can be almost too much to cope with.  Their senses are easily overwhelmed by what, to us, would seem trivial.  Their anxiety never sleeps.  Their fears grapple constantly at their throats with sharp, threatening fingers.  Small wonder so many would prefer to remain in the insular, relatively safe surroundings of the worlds they have built for themselves.  Why – given the choice – would they venture out into the uncertainties of our unfamiliar and terrifying world?

The answer is the same as for the young lady working for the UN – compassion, humanity, generosity of spirit.  They want to help us.  They want to build bridges.  They want to reach into our world and show us their perspectives.  If they manage it, we will be so much richer for it, but if they don’t, we have no right to criticise them.  Every single day, they struggle to do what they can to reach into our world.  And there will be days they just can’t.

When I reached London, he was still at home, holed up in an agony of indecision.  If he managed a meeting, it would be the first for many years.  The least I could do was to make it as easy as possible for him.
‘No rush,’ I messaged.  ‘I’ll head for the museum. Text me later if you feel able to meet somewhere.’

An hour later I was a stranger wandering in the world of the Abyssinians: huge bas-reliefs of Kings and courtiers.  ‘Spirit helpers’ with the heads of eagles and small handbags held objects like oversized pine cones against the backs of the humans’ heads.  Why?  Pineal gland connection perhaps?  What was in the bags?  What favoured realm had these beings descended from, to help their human counterparts?

Then my phone pinged.

‘I’m going to come.  I’m in central London.  Shall I meet you at the British Museum or elsewhere?’

‘The museum’s crammed with people,’ I told him, when I’d had a moment.  ‘Let’s meet in one of the squares nearby.’

On my way out I paused to stare in awe once again at the Rosetta stone, that magical jigsaw piece that had given the modern world a way into the world of other races at other times.  For me, at that moment, the stone became a talisman, allowing my world and my friend’s to come together for a short while.

Seat, Iron, Metal, Bench, Seat BenchBloomsbury, like much of London, has many lovely, peaceful squares – small oases of calm and greenery amidst the hubbub of traffic and commerce.  I selected a calm, pleasant open space where I felt he’d be most comfortable, sat on a bench and waited.  I sat at one end and placed my bags beside me, knowing he’d need more body space than most would consider normal for lifelong friends.  I remained seated when he arrived.  No exclamation of delight, no bear hugs or grasping of hands.
“Alright?” he said simply.
“Yes,” I said quietly.  “And well done.”

Old friends.  Old friends.  Sat on a park bench like bookends.
Paul Simon’s song echoed in my mind from another of my distant worlds.

I’d written much of what I wanted to say on paper.  He finds the written word easier to handle than speech – less unpredictable.  So for the first few minutes he sat and read in silence.  Then we talked.  He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead; body language and facial expression are confusing for him, so it’s easier if he cuts them out.  Still there were deep discussions and moments of humour, with both of us laughing out loud.  There were connections and shared memories of times when we’d spent so many days and hours together.  It was wonderful.

And because I know he finds transitions difficult, I made the decision on when to leave.  Or perhaps the weather did, as the rain that had been threatening all afternoon eventually began to fall.

Neither of us said, “See you soon.”  Who knows?   And what does it matter?  Our worlds had come together for that short while without any explosions or disasters and we are closer for that experience.

Commercial Break

Wordpress, Blog, Blogger, BloggingMy blog empire is growing…

I have, for several years now, used this site – Looking at Life – to do exactly that.  I’ve told anecdotes from my own life, and those of others close to me; I’ve explored metaphysical themes in all manner of directions; I’ve ranted about education and its shortcomings in our society; I’ve shared the ups and downs of my creative endeavours, whether renovating the cottage or making models.

During those years, I’ve been fortunate enough to attract an ever-growing range of followers.  Thank you.  It’s great to have you along and I’ve enjoyed exploring your sites as much as reading your comments on mine.  Several of you I now count among my friends, despite not having met you in person.  I’m aware, though, that the range of subjects covered here won’t be to everyone’s taste.  For that reason, my blogging has split off in three directions.

Fractal, Spiral, Geometry, PerceptionLooking at Life: I will attempt (no promises, mind!) to keep this blog site for my explorations of all that LIFE involves – and by ‘life’ I mean every aspect of existence as a conscious being, whether physically present on Planet Earth, travelling through dreams or ‘alive’ in other realities.  I will also continue, from time to time, to muse upon the wonders of A-Thought (autistic thinking), remote viewing and other psychic abilities on this blog.  This will remain my ‘main’ site because this is where my heart and soul are based.

 

 

20161111_162239Steampunk – Shrunk!:   https://steampunk-shrunk.com/ This is my latest venture.  Please head over there if you’d like to follow the back-stories of the tiny, dolls’ house sized characters I’m fabricating for the shop my son is running online.  Each figure will have his or her own post and a link to their pages at the shop.  There will also be articles about the process of making the models and anything else related to that aspect of my life.

 

 

 

 

 

Book, Exposition, Composition, PolandOpen the box:   http://opentheboxweb.wordpress.com   This is my education blog.  I’ve given it very little attention recently, having put all my educational energy into planning lessons for my own pupils, but once full health is restored and energy levels repleted, I’ll carry on adding free resources to that site.

 

I look forward to virtually meeting you at one or more of my blog sites in the future.

We Need to Talk

Legs, Shoes, Shadow, Alone, PersonI live alone and, yep, sometimes I catch myself speaking aloud – to myself, obviously.  My utterances are quiet; of the “Okay, what next – do the washing or check email?” variety.  I try to keep a cap on it though.  Don’t want to end up as one of those compulsive mutterers.

I used to live next door to a guy (also a single person) who spoke – nay, bellowed – to the TV.  The partition wall between our rooms was thin, and he would join in vociferously with Question Time – a current affairs discussion forum on the BBC.
“Turn off his microphone!” he would roar.  “Don’t let this fool have airtime!  You are a disgrace, sir!” and so on, and on.

So is speaking aloud something we all need to do?  I think the urge to do so is pretty strong, judging by my experiences on a bus journey earlier this week.

Trolleybus, Transport, City, PassengersTalking Passenger 1:   He was scruffy but clean and of indeterminate age, dressed entirely in shades of grey and beige.  As he stood aside before boarding, to let an elderly couple off, he greeted them effusively, despite apparently not knowing them:
“No, no, that’s fine. I always check to see if anyone needs to get off first. Have a wonderful day, won’t you.”
The driver was greeted in similar vein: “Thank you for your kindness,” when given his bus ticket.
Sweet.
When he sat down, the conversation continued unabated, despite having no one to talk to:
“Oho, what do I see? A newspaper! Excellent!”
He went on to peruse the sports section then to use the paper as an improvised trumpet. This clearly pleased him, as he repeated it several times.  He kept up a commentary on his journey until leaving the bus in a small village.  I watched as he walked across to the war memorial, sat on its steps and continued to chatter amiably to himself.

This gentleman appeared to have a very comfortable life, I decided.  His monologues clearly soothed and satisfied him.

Many of us, though, would fear ridicule for chattering away so freely to ourselves.  A companion (or at the least, a mobile phone) becomes a necessity for many.

Businessman, Talking, Phone, MobileThe bus was unexpectedly diverted at one point and almost everyone grabbed their phones and began chattering excitedly.  Some were legitimately warning a relative or workmate that they would be delayed; most were simply calling hapless friends or family members in order to share the news with someone.  For a moment I was tempted to do the same, before realising that no one I knew would be even remotely interested in hearing about my slightly lengthened journey.

Talking Passenger 2:  A mother with a small child, aged about 4.  She got on in a flap, asking the driver why all the bus timetables were wrong.  He explained that, for reasons of their own, the bus company had seen fit to change the 171 bus to a 37, although the route and times had not been changed.  Well yeah, they do that sometimes.  Ours not to reason why…
Anyway, this news clearly disturbed the young lady.  She needed to process the information and to do that, she evidently needed to talk.
She turned to her little boy and told him, “We won’t be able to get the 171 any more.  They’ve stopped it.  We’ll have to get a different bus now – one called a 37.”
The child nodded, mutely.
This clearly wasn’t enough for her. She repeated the information twice more.
Finally the boy replied, very pragmatically, I felt, and in a comforting tone, “But it had a W on the front, so that means it’s still going to Wells, doesn’t it?”
She had to agree that it did, and finally felt able to fall silent.

I had to change buses in that very city, and found myself seated in the bus shelter alongside…

Woman, Dog, Coffey, Coffee ShopTalking passenger 3: “Oh that’s right!” she said, suddenly, loudly and in a voice heavily laced with sarcasm.
I started, before realising she was talking not to me but to a small terrier, wearing a neckerchief.
“Yes, why don’t you! Put your muddy paw on Mummy! Now my raincoat’s got a nasty smear on it.”
The dog wagged it’s tail cheerfully and attempted to clamber on to her lap. It clearly didn’t get sarcasm.
“Get OFF!” she bellowed, angrily.
This time the message was clear and her pet withdrew and busied itself by chewing a discarded sweet wrapper.
As our bus pulled in, a teenage girl held the access gate open for the lady.
“Thank you,” she said, “but the driver isn’t ready yet, so I’ll wait here. Not,” she added, cuttingly, “that you can hear a word I’m saying, with those headphones stuck in your ears!”
A man nearby smiled sympathetically, “Yeah, dogs!” he responded. “Never listen, do they?”
The lady turned on him. “My DOG hears every word I say!” she announced, imperiously. “It’s those young people with the headphones – they never hear you.”

She clearly needed to be heard.

I suppose, to some extent, we all do. And, yes, we need to talk.

Why else would I be writing this blog? 🙂

Synchronise your watches…

So where did it start, this little chain of perfect synchronicities?

I think a couple of weekends ago, when Will (my remote viewing partner) sent me a message.   I was better able to understand his thoughts when I received this message on Facebook, the next day.

You see Will is an Aspie.  He isn’t so bothered about making value judgements about how ‘good’ or ‘not good’ something is.  He just likes to analyse the way it is.  The way he had analysed our remote viewing experiences was, roughly, that since he wasn’t getting consistently perfect results and since many people were biased against such a non-mainstream way of viewing locations, it had disadvantages compared to using Google Earth or similar technology to view a remote location.

I couldn’t fault his logic.  I couldn’t even put my finger on what made me feel rather sad about it.  It was something like remote viewing feeling rather special and magical, and brilliant as GPS may be, it didn’t tick the same boxes for me.

I couldn’t deny that our viewings were rather mixed in quality.  Sometimes they’ve been spot on, but often they were rather wide of the mark.  Neither of us had been able to figure out what affected that.  We’d tried a few theories but nothing had given him the accuracy he was seeking.

So there’s the trigger.  Now for the synchronicities:  (For anyone reading who isn’t sure what synchronicity is, it’s a state in which normal cause-and-effect is augmented by an extra layer of reality.  It can appear like a series of bizarre coincidences, but there is a definite intelligence and consciousness embedded in it and organising it.  The individual is led along a path towards a new level of understanding or an experience they have chosen at soul level to receive.)

Graphics, Wallpaper, The BackgroundA night or two after Will’s message, I decided to watch TV.  I don’t often do that.  There was a repeat of a programme about the mind of Einstein.  I’d seen it before but I felt very drawn to watch it again.

A scientist was using impressive CGI to demonstrate how an object could only definitively be located if, in addition to the north-south, east-west and up-down co-ordinates, you added in TIME.  That was because, she explained, objects are not always and forever in the same place.

I was impressed with that.  It was a very clear and tidy explanation.  I didn’t, at this point, link it to anything else.  I just had a strong hunch that I didn’t need to watch any more of this programme.  I found myself getting irrationally irritated by it and turned it off.

‘So what shall I do now?’ I asked myself and another strong hunch came along.  I felt drawn to go to my computer.

There was nothing I needed to do on it.  I’d already spent quite a while staring at the screen earlier in the day.  I didn’t want to!  I picked up my dinner plate and headed towards the kitchen, intending to do the washing up.  As I opened the kitchen door, the hunch was almost screaming at me: ‘Go to the computer!  You need to channel.’

Right. Okay.  Got it.

Feeling bemused, but knowing it was right, I opened Word, typed in a message to my Guides saying I felt drawn to speak to them and asking if they had something to tell me.  Then I picked up my crystal dowsing pendulum and waited for it to start swinging about over the keyboard, picking out the message I would receive.  I barely use this method these days, but the pull to do it was too strong to ignore.

Within moments, we had connected and my guides were telling me they wanted to give me some information on how Will and I could improve our remote viewing.

Wow.

The message came through incredibly clearly.  They told me remote viewing was not a form of telepathy (that was one of the ideas we had recently been debating) and that when I tried to telepathically ‘send’ my location to him, I was inadvertently causing a fog around myself.  I was to stop doing that and just focus on being where I was, leaving the ‘finding’ to Will.

Next, they told me Will hadn’t been using the time co-ordinate when he viewed me.  Let’s say I planned to be in a specific location at 2pm.  He would do the viewing at that time and I’d be in position.  Sometimes, though, he picked up somewhere I’d been ten minutes before.  That, my guides were explaining, was because he wasn’t specifically searching for me at the set time.  If he focused on me AND the time, he’d get much more accurate viewings.  I chatted through a few of our recent near misses and they were even able to tell me where Will had ‘seen’ me – usually in a place I’d looked at and passed on my way to the target.  They pointed out that as long as he put in the time co-ordinate, he could do the viewing at any other time in his life – before or after the target event.

So time, like space, only exists within physical realms.  It merely acts as a marker when you’re dealing with realms beyond our three – or rather four – dimensions.

Very excited, I sent a transcript of my channelled conversation to Will.

Ship, Tanker, Oil, Transportation, SeaA couple of nights later I went to a lecture on psychic phenomena.  The speaker told the story of an expert remote viewer who had done a ‘real time’ live viewing on TV – even seeing an oil tanker arrive on the scene while he was viewing it – but later confessed that he’d actually done the viewing the previous day, before the target destination had even been chosen!

Needless to say, I passed that information on to Will as well.

The following weekend he did a series of very accurate viewings of places I’d been earlier in the day.  In each case I’d merely noted the time I was there and later asked him to focus on me at that time.

Today we did a ‘live’ viewing, but followed my guides’ advice.  Once again, he got the clearest of viewings.  For him the ‘dominant building’ – which he described extremely accurately – was the one I was beside at the given time.  There were far larger structures nearby, but he saw them as fainter.  In other words, he had located me (the object) in time and was able to pinpoint my position.

Will has revised his opinion of the usefulness of remote viewing in light of this new information.  He’s been very satisfied with our recent results.

Me?  I just love synchronicity!

 

 

Didn’t know I had a petard, and here I am hoist with it

Grenade, Bomb, War, Weapon, DangerI had to look petard up: a small bomb apparently.  As for being hoist on/by/with it, we have Shakespeare to thank for that one.  All I knew was that it meant, roughly, to fall into one’s own trap, and that I’ve certainly done this week.

Embarrassed, but trying hard to be authentic, so…

Allow me to explain.

A few weeks ago I was asked to take on a pair of new students – young brothers who shared a genetic condition with their mother.  “Multi-systemic” I was told, so the effects of this syndrome involve skin, joints, brain and just about any part of the body you can think of.  The words ‘complex learning difficulties’ were also mentioned.

To be honest, I was almost at full stretch before these lads appeared on the scene.  Planning two lots of lessons in maths and English tailored to their particular mix of strengths (very high intelligence) and challenges, as well as homework each week would, I knew, take at least an entire day.  Then there was the teaching itself, which I could only just slot in amongst my other young pupils.  Everything logical in my mind was screaming, “No, don’t do it!  What about that work/life balance you wanted?  You are past retirement age, you know.  And this lady wants you to work on right through the summer holidays.  When will you get to see the family?”

But the kids were lovely.  Finding ways of working around their difficulties would be fascinating – previously uncharted territory, the type of challenge I thrive on.  They weren’t fitting into schools.  Their constant pain and exhaustion, as a result of the syndrome, was too much for them when combined with a normal school day.  The mother, though, was being threatened by the authorities for not providing sufficient education.

I said, ‘Yes’.

Of course I did.

Writing, Boy, Child, Student, KidFor a couple of weeks it went fine.  Yes, I did end up doing lesson prep all through the weekends but they seemed to be progressing well and I was enjoying working with them.  Then this week they appeared full of smiles but without homework.  A casual ‘lost it somewhere in my room’ from one and ‘I didn’t realise you wanted me to do that’ from the other.

Inwardly I was irritated.  The homework sheets had taken me ages to prepare.  The work I’d planned for this week followed on from what they were meant to have done.  Their mother had particularly requested homework.  It was meant to protect her from being taken to court… and blah, blah, blah.

Outwardly, I smiled, suggested mildly that maybe they could try to get it done for the following week and carried on.  The lessons went fine and I went to bed that night feeling very happy.

Oh I know at least one of my readers knows exactly what’s coming!

I woke up the next morning to a text from the children’s mother.  Both of them had told her I was ‘grumpy’ during their lessons.  She wondered what was wrong.

I was mortified.  The lessons had (I thought) been lovely – lots of laughter and progress.  Was I just a delusional old bat?  Had I ended up like those elderly lady teachers I remembered from my own school days – miserable and past it?  Was it time to stop and give up – to sit in a rocking chair knitting all day?

I flashed a quick message back, saying I had been disappointed that they’d not bothered with the homework, but wasn’t aware of being grumpy about it; that I’d tried hard to keep the work lively and enjoyable and so forth.

Then I sat and thought.

Why was I choosing to be so upset by this?  Why had this incident shown up in my life?  What did it have to teach me?

The reply came almost at once, in a further message from the children’s mum.  She hadn’t wanted to upset me.  She just felt she had to be authentic and tell me their reaction.  It wasn’t my words or actions they had reacted to, it was my feelings.  They were, she added, extremely sensitive and picked up on the energy people projected.

Heart, Love, Idea, Light BulbAh.

Got it.

That heart-based telepathy thing.

So I thanked her – and the universe – for providing me with that reminder.  I told her about my last blog post, on exactly this subject, and promised to attempt to be more open and authentic in future.

See what I mean about being hoist with my own petard?  This communicating-from-the-heart business is not easy.  I’m glad to have these two young teachers.  Like all good teachers, they’ve appeared just as the student is ready 🙂

 

Communication – another way?

Face, Soul, Head, Smoke, Light, SadI’m aware that I’ve gained a few new followers recently – thank you so much and welcome to my ramblings and wonderings – so I thought it might be a good time to briefly explain the William connection before launching into another post about him and autistic spectrum perception.

William is a young man in his mid twenties, whom I met almost 20 years ago.  He began as a pupil in a class I was teaching – a class for kids with speech and language difficulties.  A set of circumstances which might be considered very strange, if you didn’t believe in pre-planned soul contracts, caused our paths to cross and re-cross in many ways, so that even now we are the best of friends.  Despite the fact that he is only able to communicate with me through text and email at present, I still have longer and deeper communications with him than with anyone else I know.

School, Teacher, The PupilSo yes, to begin with I believed my role was to teach William to communicate.  He had oral dyspraxia, which meant he had a very limited range of speech sounds.  Additionally he was on the autistic spectrum, which meant that social communication – reading body language, facial expressions, tone of voice etc. was challenging for him.  He made excellent progress, no denying that.  However at the same time, he and a couple of his classmates began teaching me other ways of communicating – ways I’d never dreamed of.

Alan could ‘beam’ states of mind into my head.  I didn’t have to be facing him, or even thinking about him, to find that I was aware that he was feeling angry, frustrated, impatient or in need of help.  Martin’s speciality was sending words to me.  I could ‘hear’ what he was saying, although no words had been spoken aloud, sometimes from across the building.  Once I spotted him and made eye contact, he’d give the briefest of nods, meaning, “Good, you got it.”

William was on another level entirely.  “I think,” he told me, rather deferentially, one morning when he was about eight, “I should tell you that I’m telepathic.”
He waited, a slight smile playing around his lips, for the full impact to sink in.
“You mean you can read my mind?” I asked, suddenly feeling horribly exposed.
He nodded, allowing the smile to break loose.

Of course the children used this form of communication amongst themselves all the time.  I’d often wondered how a bunch of kids with only the most rudimentary verbal language abilities were able to engage in imaginative games, with each of them understanding their role perfectly.  Once William twigged that I was sometimes able to pick up snippets of their telepathic communication, he took it upon himself to tutor me in these skills, although never overtly.

It’s subtle, this hidden communication – infinitely so.  By comparison, spoken language is crass and imperfect.  Our labels and descriptions, no matter how extensive our vocabulary, are often open to misinterpretation or simply inadequate to convey our true intent.

Having spent a lifetime closely observing children of all ages, and in particular watching my own three and my two grandchildren develop language, I firmly believe that all humans begin life with the subtle, non-verbal language.
“Oh, she understands so much of what we say,” parents will tell you as they cradle an infant in their arms.
Maybe. I suspect the tiny person is understanding far more of what the parent thinks. I also believe she is using this telepathic (for want of a better word) skill to communicate her needs to the mother. Most would not put this at more than a ‘close bond’ between mother and child.  What, though, if it’s something far greater?

Learning, Telephone, To Call, AlarmOnce they had learned to speak clearly and to follow the conventions of conversation, my little students more-or-less ceased using their telepathy.  Our society places great value on effective spoken and written language.  The children – Will included – worked diligently to improve these.  I was busily congratulating myself on our success and only dimly aware of what we had lost in the process.

As I’ve said, though, this was a soul contract, and although the children  went their different ways and I moved back into mainstream teaching, William and I still had far more to teach one another.

We stayed in touch.  Sometimes we’d have long, rambling, fascinating conversations that would last for hours, and I’d be amazed at how brilliantly he’d picked up the ability to speak.  At other times, though, he’d withdraw for days, weeks or even months at a time.  Conventional language caused too much stress and the best I could hope for was a single word text to let me know he was still alive or a ‘beamed’ impression of his state of mind.  Not great, usually.

Now it’s come full circle.  Yesterday, William sent me a draft article for inclusion in his second book.  It’s a stunner.

He begins by explaining how it is for people on the autistic spectrum to attempt to learn social communication.  Ruefully, he says:

Having to learn such skills is generally very difficult and time consuming. An analogy may be learning a second language which for the vast majority, autistic or not, is again very difficult and time consuming. And even then, few who learn a second language can match the fluency and competency of a native speaker whose language skills developed naturally as part of growing up.

He bemoans the fact that, despite this, the non-autistic population expect perfection from those challenged in this way.

Later, he begins to consider the reason computer-based language is easier for ASP people to manage:

Man, Notebook, Continents, Binary, CodeMany autistic people demonstrate a good level of competency with computers – likely to be linked to their operation depending on clearly defined protocols and mathematics, things which are very different to how social communication and interaction works.  Most communication between people which occurs via computers is in a written format, offering a greater similarity with the clearly defined operating protocols of a computer, since written communication often takes a more formal and literal interpretation of language than face to face communication.  This also removes the need to attempt to understand body language and tone of voice – things often problematic for those with autism.

Only in the final paragraph does he allow his thoughts to wander into that other type of communication – the early ‘telepathy’ and our more recent forays into ‘remote viewing’.  William isn’t certain that either of these terms fully encompass or describe what is actually taking place.

[ASP people] have a naturally different method of accomplishing [communication].  What exactly that method is I don’t believe is fully understood at present by either autistics or non-autistics.  I don’t believe the correct words have been attributed to autistic matters to describe or explain it properly.  I suspect at some point this will be achieved and hopefully will allow for autism to be harnessed to it’s full potential and remedy the blindness of so many.

I hope so, William.

 

We are still compiling The Words of William Volume Two.  Volume One is available via Amazon as a paperback in the UK, Europe and North America and as a Kindle edition worldwide.