Syncing without Trace, but Czeching

I wish I could trace them – the tracks of my synchronicities.

Sometimes they feel like cross-hairs gradually coming together, to home in on the target, but it’s far more complex than that.  There are many strands and they cross and recross, ricocheting off one another in an apparently random mess, until gradually and subtly they begin building up a pattern.  Finally, with no clear idea how I got here, I find myself standing at the centre of an amazing piece of sacred geometry and the whole thing is laid out clearly for me to see, like those transit patterns the planets make with each other.

(Is that how astrology fits in?  Is it sacred geometry working out at a macro level??  Maybe Pluto or Uranus are not ‘influencing’ us – they’re just making the patterns of the synchronicity working through our lives visible.  Sorry: digression.)

So once I’ve had the ‘Aha!’ moment, I can try to work back to how I got there.  What was it that pushed me to open this file or buy that book?  I think – if I were the kind of person who could create such things – a diagram or flow chart would work better.  Alas, all I have at my disposal are strings of words, so they must suffice.  The process is not linear, but this attempt to unravel it will be, since that’s the way writing works.

  • Phone, Communication, ConnectionI publish a post on here which includes this image.
  • Someone comments on it and directs me to an interview with Stan Grof.
  • I become intrigued and read a book referred to in the interview.  At this point the lines of synchronicity are shooting off in multiple directions; one even points at synchronicity!
  • Grof intrigues me and, like my grandfather, he is a Czech emigrant.
  • The book tells of psychiatric regressions, with patients picking up ancestral stories from their bloodline, which were later authenticated.
  • In a quite different part of my life, I am buying a piece of Moldavite for a friend’s birthday.  I don’t know why.  I simply have a very strong feeling that this person needs Moldavite, now.
  • Intrigued again (being intrigued is a very strong indicator for synchronicities at work, I’ve found) I begin researching Moldavite.  I discover it comes from the site of a meteor impact, many centuries ago, and is only found at this one place on Earth –  in The Czech Republic.  ‘There it is again,’ I think. (Repetition/dêja vu is another indicator of synchronicity.)
  • While I’m musing on that, I start exploring that country, trying one more time to locate the village my grandfather came from.  I’ve tried on many occasions.  I knew its name from the postmarks in his stamp collection, which I inherited, but the German language forms of many border towns’ names were eradicated after WWII and I didn’t know the Czech equivalent.
  • This time, though, I find it.  I’m delighted and make a mental note to explore some more when I have time.
  • After an exhausting and rather frustrating day, I decide to have a quiet evening watching TV.  I select a film called The Secret Life of Bees, a rather sugary tale of life, death and the civil rights struggles in the American deep south in the sixties.
  • Incomprehensibly, I find myself weeping uncontrollably throughout the entire movie.  I’m identifying so strongly with every aspect of the story line and characters.  It feels personal.  It feels as if I’ve been there and experienced that and the pain is still unbearably raw.  Yet I haven’t.
  • By the end of the film, I’m a red-eyed, snivelling wreck, with a mountain of soggy tissues beside me.  ‘It’s just been a hard day,’  I tell myself.  I need to go and do something enjoyable.
  • I head for the computer and go back to researching the Czech connection.
  • I find the village my grandfather came from on Google Map.  I wander through its streets and peer across the mountains he grew up in.  I even find the post office where my ancestral relatives sent the letters whose stamps now lie, old and yellowing, in his album.
  • I read other sites, with histories of the area.  They tell how this once prosperous mining town, with rich seams of silver and agate crystals was ravaged by the Thirty Years War, fell into decline, was subsumed by the Austro-Hungarian empire and the native Bohemians persecuted and viciously suppressed.  This continued for decades.  The young men faced compulsory 10 year military service in their oppressors’ army.
  • So that was why my grandfather fled to England!  He died when I was a young child.  My father was embarrassed to talk about his origins while I was growing up.  Bohemia had become part of Czechoslovakia by then and was part of the feared Eastern Bloc during those Cold War days, so Dad pretended he came from Austria.
  • Finally, I feel I understand my heritage.  I know why the Bees film affected me so deeply.  I accept that ancestral memory still travels through my consciousness.  I see why dissolving prejudice has been such a huge part of my life.
  • I turn away from the computer – and stare straight into the eyes of my grandfather, whose pastel portrait hangs on the living room wall.  I pass it a hundred times a day, but at this point I really see it.
  • And he is smiling slightly.
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A Flock of Clockwork Birds

Nothing deep this week – just a simple story, which happens to be true…

‘Flock of singing bird mechanisms, job lot’ said the advert.  And it had me – a bird in the hand…

I called the vendor, who – it transpired – lived less than a mile from my cottage.

“Yes,” he said. “Brass and steel.  Clockwork.  They have tiny bellows and a little brass whistle.  When you wind the key, the bird warbles and twists around.  My father had them, long ago.  Mother found them when she was turning out – asked me to find a home for them.  The sort of thing popular with Victorians, in little gilt cages, you know?  Could you use them?”

“Yes,” I said, not daring to pause for breath.

“How?” I wondered.

I could afford the price.  It seemed most reasonable for such treasures.  Real clockwork mechanisms – they are disappearing from our world like smoke.  No batteries.  No USB connectors.  Just brass and steel, cog and cam, key and spring.  I have loved clockwork, automatons and all such things ever since, as a toddler, I ripped my cardboard musical box apart to find where the sounds came from, and sat entranced as I watched the shining beauty of its mechanical perfection.

With no plan in mind, I simply knew I had to have the flock.  Perhaps the birds would sing to me and tell me how to bring them back to life.

At three o’clock I was led to the vendor’s garage.  A faded, mouse-gnawed, cardboard box was pulled out for my inspection.  Twelve little packages, each wrapped in yellowing tissue paper lay there.  He unwrapped one and placed the dainty mechanism in the palm of my hand.  Springs and cams glinted slightly in the dim light.

“Needs a key,” he said.  A second box was brought out, filled with hundreds of tiny folded waxed paper envelopes.  Why did he have that many?  He pulled one open.  I glimpsed fragments of wire and brass and plastic inside, and a shining brass key.

“Turns this way,” he said. “Counter-clockwise.  Left-handed.”

Like me.

He screwed the key into the mechanism and turned.  Nothing.  He twisted the device around, searching his memory, muttering to himself, “Must need oiling.  Not been touched in years.  How do they start?”

Then his hand knocked the fly wheel.  It began to turn.  A few slow revolutions, then it spun as smoothly as it ever had.  The bellows moved up and down like some tiny creature’s beating heart, and the warbling began.   On and on it trilled and I watched and listened, thanking the inexplicable impulse that had nudged me into answering his advert.

Next a box of birds (“All hand painted, you know.”) was passed to me for inspection.  Two hundred?  Maybe three?  Some in shades of blue, some gold.  I must have gasped at the quantity.

“Oh, you’ll be amazed when you see how many you’ve got here,” he told me.

Sure enough, as he lifted box after box, I saw an endless mass of the clockwork devices.  Enough for every key and every bird.

“No idea why my father had them,” he said.  “Obviously he was planning to do something with them and they got forgotten.  Just been stuck in an attic ever since.  You sure you can find a use for them?”

“Definitely,” I said, wondering how and when and what.

I’d happily have paid his price for the original twelve, but here I am with dirty, dusty box after dirty, dusty box of the tiny wonders, now stashed in my coal-store and waiting, waiting not so much longer now, maybe, to be released – to sing and twirl and entertain as they always intended to.

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…

 

 

Meant to Be

wp_20161014_13_31_43_proLife throws up challenges every so often.  You’d noticed, obviously.  How we deal with those challenges is what matters, though.  Today I want to tell you a story of someone who dealt with his in the best way.

The final straw was when the meat safe broke.  My son was a chef there.  He went to management to check that they were happy for him to throw the meat out.  They said no.  They said it would be fine as long as everyone kept the door shut as much as possible.  He protested.  He wasn’t prepared to serve the customers meat that hadn’t been stored at the correct temperature.  There had been a few such battles, with him arguing for quality and them for profit.  Tempers were frayed.  They ordered him to carry on using the meat.  He quit.

So there he was, suddenly, out of work.  His partner was having to pick up all the bills, he wasn’t having any luck finding other jobs.  Things seemed bad.  This was a challenge.

On a bright spring morning, we set out together.  I’d arrived to stay for a few days and he’d offered to show me around the town they’d fairly recently moved to.  To both of us, it felt that something good was about to happen.

“Would you like to see the museum?” he asked.  “It’s pretty good.”

Obviously we’d been chatting about work and the sort of things he could turn his hand to, but it wasn’t until he paused in that museum and stared in pure delight at a gorgeously detailed model of an old city gate from the Middle Ages, complete with carts and horses, market stalls and all manner of tiny details, that the germ of a plan began to form.

“That’s what I’d really love to do,” he said, longingly.  “I bet there’s only one or two people in the whole country who are commissioned to make those models, but wouldn’t it be a fantastic job?”

I laughed.  “That’s exactly what I always wanted to do, when I was a kid,” I told him.  “Yes, that would be the perfect job for you.”

So that’s how it begins, isn’t it?  We put the idea out there.  We coat it generously with positive wishes and intention.  Then we wait for the Universe to start swinging into action.  The Law of Attraction may sound a bit of a New Age cliché, but it works…

“Not sure where else to show you,” he said, as we came out of the museum and rain started to fall.  “Oh, that building over there has just been converted into little workshops and craft outlets.  Do you want to take a look?”

We went inside.

“There’s not much on the ground floor yet,” he told me.  “We’re probably better going upstairs.”

But I’d noticed a sign to a dolls’ house shop, and I’ve always loved dolls’ houses…

It was shut.  Reluctantly, I turned away, but at that very moment the owner arrived and opened the door.  The tiny shop was crammed with all manner of miniatures and both of us were entranced.  We were the only customers, so a chat to the owner was almost inevitable.  We told him how we loved the things he’d made himself.  We asked about who his suppliers were and how he found them.  We explained my son’s predicament and I spoke of his talent for creating tiny models.

“Go to trade fairs,” he said, shortly.  “Talk to stallholders.  Find what they’re not making and do it.”

We thanked him and continued looking around.  Eventually I chose a few minuscule treasures to take home.  As I went to pay, the owner said, “Been thinking.  Steampunk.  No one’s doing that.  It would sell.”

And so the Universe was starting to spill the beans.  Matt and I looked at each other.  Why not?

So that (in case you were wondering) is how my new hobby of making 1/12 size Steampunk figures came about.  Matt, meanwhile, set to work creating room settings for them, filled with cogs, chains and devious devices.  We toured the trade shows, scoured the internet and charity shops for interesting items to use and re-purpose.  He stocked up on wood, while I bought up a selection of little porcelain dolls, and a cottage industry was born.

Today our online shop went live.  A few of the figures are ready for sale.  My son is busy photographing and listing the rest of the items.

I know all will be well.  The synchronicities of that day made it inevitable that it would.  I’ve put a photo of one of his rooms at the top of this post, and various figures appear in the last post I wrote.

Oh, and if you’d care to visit the store, or know anyone else who would, here’s the link: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/SteampunkDollsHouse?ref=hdr_shop_menu

 

O Brave New World

I love the Flammarion engraving.  Its an image that feels hard-wired into my mind.  It is, quite simply, my mission statement.

Yesterday I sat for many hours with a dear friend, engaged on one of those rambling metaphysical discussions that sometimes go round in circles and sometimes find a new, untrodden path.  I’d like to share what happened with you – my wider community of dear friends – and would welcome your comments and ideas on the implications of what was suggested…

So, specifically, we had agreed on several points:

  • That there are certain places on our planet – sacred sites, as they’re commonly known, and certain artefacts – usually behind glass in museums – which in some mysterious way hold a key to piercing that veil (see picture above) and accessing the akashic realms.
  • That it’s possible to enter an altered state and reach this akasha in the presence of these places or objects, but equally possible to be totally unmoved by them.  It appears to depend on your state of mind.
  • That the ideal way to approach these sacred places and objects, should you wish for the enlightenment they may facilitate, is what’s known as ‘A-thought’ (see here for a fuller explanation of this concept) – the state of mind we enter when following synchronicity or remote viewing, for example.
  • That it’s difficult, sometimes, to enter that state at will, as we so easily get sucked back into the ‘common sense’ world of cause-and-effect and logic.  That’s why so many seekers have used ritual, psychotropic substances, drumming, dance or sensory deprivation to jump-start such an experience.
  • That we could do with a bit of guidance before we next set off to hunt down the hidden realms and the treasures lurking there.

“We could try asking my Guides,” I said.

Koimul, the guide I can sometimes channel, has, as regular readers will know, taken a recent interest in my explorations of metaphysical realms.  It felt like the right sort of question to ask.

As we’d hoped, Koimul was right on the case and happy to discuss our questions.  It soon became clear, in fact, that Koimul had been tuning in to our conversation and made several references to it in what followed.

We were told that certain sites we’d considered visiting  ‘WOULD ATTUNE YOU TO THEIR ENERGY’ and provide ‘ESOTERIC KNOWLEDGE FOR REACHING WHAT [YOU] SEEK.

We asked for a definition of what – exactly – we were seeking. (It’s so easy to get mired in obscurity when discussing these numinous ideas.)  Koimul called it ‘MAWDEN’ and defined it as ‘REALITY BEYOND FOUR DIMENSIONS’.

Next we asked about the ‘sacred’ sites and artefacts.  I’d read in Seth’s books that no place is, of itself, more sacred than any other, but is made so by the energy placed there by those who use it.  I’d always wanted some clarity on that, as certain places certainly ‘feel’ more special than others.  So were these places and objects some kind of ‘tool’?

‘NOT OF THEMSELVES,’ Koimul explained, ‘BUT THEY LEAD YOU TO THAT WHICH YOU SEEK’.

Okay, so how, exactly did that work?

We were told, ‘VISIT THE SITES.  LEARN WHAT THEY HAVE TO TEACH YOU AND FOLLOW THE PATH THEY LEAD YOU ON VIA SYNCHRONICITY’.  Koimul explained that the sites were not sacred or special in themselves, but that the knowledge that humans can’t always access is encoded or – literally – crystallised within the stones or artefacts in these places.  It becomes possible for us to access them if we are in the right frame of mind – that A-Thought state we had already identified as important. 

With amazing clarity, Koimul went on to tell us how each member of the group who will be going on this trip has particular abilities to contribute and added ‘COMBINE YOUR SKILLS WITH WILLIAM’S SIGHT TO MOVE TO YOUR GOAL’.

That was unexpected.  William, my remote viewing partner, will not be joining us in person, but he usually gets involved remotely and views places we visit, sometimes seeing things we don’t.  This time, though, Koimul had a new role in mind for Will:  ‘WILLIAM WILL VIEW THE SITES IN ADVANCE AND HE WILL LEAD [YOU] TO THEM’.

The more I think about it, the cleverer Koimul’s idea sounds.  It seems to me as if what we’ll be doing is reversing cause-and-effect.  Normally I go and hang out somewhere and give Will the time or location (the cause).  He then views where I am (the effect).  Reversing it, though, means the effect – what Will ‘sees’ – is established before the event that ’causes’ it – us going there – has occurred.  We only arrive there because he says we have done so, even though it won’t have happened at that point.

Have I got that right?

Koimul appears to be preparing us to enter whichever locations emerge, having by-passed time and cause-and-effect and having neatly defied logic.  That should certainly put us in the correct frame of mind to be open to whatever synchronicity unfolds…

 

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!

 

 

Guidance…

Well that was unexpected.

A request from a potential new Facebook friend.  The name’s distantly familiar.  So is the face, when I take a look at his profile, and those dim bells clanging at the very back of my mind are telling me he’s somehow connected to the school I worked at, before everything changed.  His profile says he’s from my old town.  Slightly bemused and curious, I press the Accept button.

An hour later, the young man messages me.  He’d been a student teacher at the school for a few weeks, it emerges, while I was working there.  We’d chatted several times in the staff room.  I feel slightly less embarrassed now that my recall was somewhat dim.  In the intervening years, he’s moved around the country, married, had children and is now back there and doing my old job – teaching Year 6 at the same Essex school.  Somewhat synchronous…

He tells me about life there these days.  Sounds ghastly – endless new initiatives imposed by clueless, reactionary politicians, ‘special measures’ imposed on the staff, ‘academy status’ whatever that is – more and more control from above, obviously – and packs of disaffected kids prowling the building and contemplating escape.  I suddenly feel very safe and cosseted by my present easy lifestyle.  Also mildly guilty for getting out when I did.

Then he totally amazes me.
“I read your book,” he says.

Available in paperback and Kindle editions

Really?  I can’t imagine anyone in Essex reading my book.  He tells me it inspired him and that he now has a totally new attitude towards education and is considering getting out of the crumbling system and educating in other ways.  He’s been on a Forest Schools course.  He’s thinking about working for a local wildlife trust and using that as a base for educating.

Good grief!  What did I write in that book?  It’s been a long while since I read it, so I take it off the shelf and have another look.

It most certainly isn’t about education, or how to educate.  It does have a rather teacherly style, though.  Re-reading it makes me wince slightly.  Did I really explain a multi-dimensional universe by instructing the reader on how to make a paper model?  It reads like the script of a 1980s episode of Blue Peter, for those who know what that is.  And yet it kind of works…

English: 42, The Answer to the Ultimate Questi...

What I was trying to do, when I put it together, was to write a book about the meaning and purpose of Life, the Universe and Everything which avoided all the wafty new-age psychobabble, mystical ramblings and cliches, (How DO you insert an acute accent on WordPress??) that were so prevalent when it was published in 2012.

The video game analogy is hopelessly overworked; the style (in an attempt to draw in a ‘youth’ audience) veers much closer to patronising than I’d now wish, yet it still has a sort of raw charm and honesty, I suppose, and a few ideas and insights which I haven’t seen expressed anywhere else.  Not a complete waste of time, then.

So how the young man discovered it and chose to read it, I’ll probably never know, but I’m all about encouraging everyone, myself included, to move out of the comfort zone and into newer and greater experience.  That appears to be – so early indications are suggesting – what 2016 is all about.

And what is the message for me?  There definitely is one; it says so in the book:

These synchronicities act like a sort of mental sticking plaster and are strong enough to hold the two of you together; to keep you talking and interacting until you both get the information or experience that you need…

Is this episode telling me to stop faffing about and to get on with writing the next book… and making it better?

Probably.

 

Back on the Giants’ Shoulders

I hadn’t meant to clamber back up here – I’m not actually that good with heights – but a whole crowd more giants just came along and I can’t resist.  The view from this lofty location is amazing!

I’ll start aloft the shoulders of John Milton.  I first encountered him when I was about 15:  Paradise Lost, book something-or-the-other as an exam text.  Wild, rambling, epic 17th century poem!  I kind of forgave Milton for being a harsh, narrow-minded religious fundamentalist who bullied his daughters when I started to dig below the surface of his work.  For a start, his Adam was an insufferable prude, while Eve was as wet as washday.  Satan, on the other hand, was deliciously complex and rather likeable.  I decided that Milton, like many of his contemporaries who had survived Civil War torn England and its dangerous aftermath, had a public face and a private mind.  What clinched it for me though was when I decided to read the rest of Paradise Lost – the bit our teacher said we needn’t bother with.

Satan on his way to bring about the downfall o...

Satan on his way to bring about the downfall of Adam. Gustave Doré’s illustration for Paradise Lost by John Milton. 

 

  • The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark
  • Illimitable ocean, without bound,
  • Without dimension; where length, breadth, and height,
  • And time, and place, are lost; where eldest night
  • And chaos, ancestors of nature, hold
  • Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise
  • Of endless wars, and by confusion stand.
  • For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce,
  • Strive here for mastery, and to battle bring
  • Their embryon atoms

 

That description of  ‘outer space’, with all its seething, pulsing energy filled me with excitement.  It was so different to the sterile void of which our science teachers sought to convince us.  I decided this was the universe I preferred to inhabit – one where anything and everything could happen.

And so the scene was set.  I had my raw material.  All I needed now was to understand the process by which order could be imposed on the seething ether and those ’embrion atoms’ which held the potential to bring forth our cosmos.

English: nikola tesla color

A short pause while I wobble unsteadily and clamber onto the rather suave shoulders of Nikola Tesla.  His mind had been running along similar lines, but in an intellectual sphere way beyond my own.  Look on his words (from the New York Times, 1908), ye Mighty, and tremble…

“According to an adopted theory, every ponderable atom is differentiated from a tenuous fluid, filling all space merely by spinning motion, as a whirl of water in a calm lake. By being set in movement this fluid, the ether, becomes gross matter. Its movement arrested, the primary substance reverts to its normal state. It appears, then, possible for man through harnessed energy of the medium and suitable agencies for starting and stopping ether whirls to cause matter to form and disappear. At his command, almost without effort on his part, old worlds would vanish and new ones would spring into being.”

Right.  So that gives me the process.  Next I need to locate the ‘suitable agencies’ Tesla speaks of.  I’m drawn to some words from my gigantic friend William’s recently published book.  He makes an astounding claim which seems eerily close to Tesla’s, though coming from an unexpected direction:

Nederlands: zelf gemaakte foto

An experienced and sufficiently enlightened user could use a pair of dowsing rods to achieve anything one desires.   The rods can harness power from crystals and ley lines as well as any other energy source including pure psychic energy. The rods can alter the subatomic structure of the universe. They can provide interaction with different dimensions. They can provide the user with unlimited knowledge. They can alter events occurring all around the universe. If a user has accumulated enough experience and skill with dowsing rods they could have influence over all of space and time.

Now two of my giants are promising limitless creative experience if this energy is harnessed by an ‘experienced and sufficiently enlightened user’.  There always seems to be a catch, doesn’t there?

Perhaps I need some hard scientific credentials here, so I’ll crawl across to the sturdy shoulders of Max Planck – just about the most solid and respectable theoretical physicist you could hope to find.  (I was in the same form at school as his great-nephew, as it happens.  It was bizarre – a little like finding yourself in the same class as Harry Potter on your first day at Hogwarts.  None of us could understand why the classroom door kept swinging open during our first week, as members of the teaching staff would poke their heads around it and hiss at our form tutor, “Which one is he?  Just had to take a look.”)

Anyhow, what does Herr Planck have to say on the matter of atoms and their creation?  He wrote this in Florence, in 1944, a few years before his death:

Dr. Max Planck

As a man who has devoted his whole life to the most clear headed science, to the study of matter, I can tell you as a result of my research about atoms this much:  There is no matter as such.  All matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force which brings the particle of an atom to vibration and holds this most minute solar system of the atom together.  We must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent mind.  This mind is the matrix of all matter.

Ah.  So we are closer still.  Imposed upon our seething mass of ether is a matrix – one which is conscious and intelligent.  Is this Consciousness some supreme creator or does it, potentially at least, emanate from ourselves?  Those who have read my book will know that I consider the two to be one and the same, at different fractal scales.  Just as Planck’s atoms are fractal solar systems, so are we fractal Source/All That Is.  It is consciousness which is the missing component in Milton’s chaotic ether.  It is consciousness which begins Tesla’s spinning motion or wields Will’s dowsing rods.

These ideas are familiar – astonishingly so.  They have been bombarding my mind via other sources for several weeks now.  Everywhere I look or listen, it seems, the revelations of my giants have echoes.

Has Atxero (for example) been clambering around atop these same giants, I wonder, or are we simply accessing the same ‘knowing’ within our all-seeing matrix?  In her latest, amazing blog post she speaks of

…an invisible energy moving through the universe in the wake of which everything comes into existence and everything spirals around onward …  If we consider that that invisible energy is Consciousness (like, mother of all consciousness) that is also an intention set in motion … so lets say the mind of the Universe had the urge to create something and in wake of this urge the Universe was created. (I am considering the Universe to be alive, complete with the soul and mind and body and the whole package, where each of the existing material bodies as even planets, galaxies or human bodies … just like we have cells in our body). That that invisible energy is the life force of the Universe.

So how, exactly, do we control it? I hear you ask.  How do we spin that ether and create in the way your giants have promised we can?

I think I have the answer.  I need to consider for a few days more, though, to sort the ideas into words.  So forgive me for leaving so suddenly.  All the information we need is here, but it’s been hiding in the one place scientists would never think of looking.

Can you find it? 🙂

 

 

Of Giants, Archaeologists and Magicians (2)

If you haven’t read my first post on this subject, you may want to check it here to find the context for this one.

IMG_20151113_084431 (1)Kate and I decided to utilise the idea pictured here (on my favourite tea towel, as it happens) to explore some of Mallorca’s most magical and ancient places.  ‘All things’ includes us, of course, as well as those who constructed and used these sacred places.  Therefore we decided to lightly look with the most delicate of our senses.  We used hunches and intuition, synchronicities, words and thoughts that appeared unbidden in our minds, dowsing and channelling, remote viewing (thanks to our friend William back in England) and meditation.

I could argue that this is far, far from simple guesswork, and some of you would believe me, while others would scoff.  That’s fine.  I’ll just report our findings and let you draw what conclusions you will.

 

The photos below show what remains of one of Mallorca’s many talayots.  Notice the huge stones compared to the far smaller ones used in habitation construction shown in my previous post on this subject.

IMG_20151107_151827 (1)IMG_20151107_151700IMG_20150414_145652

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The entrance leads to this winding passageway, built into the wall of the structure.  The archway (visible behind the huge stone on the right) opens with a steep step down into an open circular space.  Due to the thickness of the walls, this inner area is only 3 or 4 metres across.

IMG_20150414_145503

This photo shows the massive column in the centre of the talayot’s inner space.  Like so many of the stones used in the ancient sites, it is riddled with veins of quartz crystal and there is a palpable energy around it.  Our minds can’t know what the original purpose of this structure was, but perhaps our subtle senses can …

From London, Will was able to tune in at once.  He remotely viewed a structure that appeared to rise suddenly out of the ground like a cliff.  He defined it as a ruin with steps and an archway.  He sensed the roundness and saw (invisible to us) writing or symbols that seemed to involve triangles.  He felt an energy signature which linked to animals.  These were not, he insisted, the sheep whose bells tinkled in the surrounding fields or passing birds or wildlife, but something connected to the original function of the place.

Kate used her dowsing rods to pick up energy lines within the talayot and beyond its walls, particularly to the left of the entrance.  She felt that this could show the extent of a nearby settlement.  A Mallorcan lady who accompanied us – one who routinely dowses her land for water sources – was able to find a much wider band of energy in the surrounding field.

We used my pendulum to reach guidance from those who were able and willing to share knowledge with us.  We were told that the talayots attached to villages were not for everyday use.  They were places of magic.  An elite group of shamanic elders travelled the island, performing ceremonies within the talayots, healing the sick and the land, observing the sun and moon’s progress through the skies, watching stars and comets, and using the structures as ‘libraries’ – repositories for knowledge handed down through the ages.  There was a connection to birds.  The idea of the shamanic ‘bird-man’ – able to shape-shift or link to the spirits of the black falcons who circle above – was a fleeting yet persistent image.

By synchronicity, I had been reading a passage from Seth Speaks on the journey out.  Seth had been describing ‘co-ordination points’ – locations where different dimensions intersected.  In these, he claimed, gravity is slightly different and anything built in such places lasts far longer than might be expected.  He cited the example of the Egyptian pyramids.  A Mallorcan man told me that there persists on the island a feng shui type belief that certain directions and positions can be found which are more auspicious for building than others…

As for the construction, in meditation I was shown the difference between attempting to lift a person as a dead weight, and one who is willing to be moved.  The latter is, of course, many times easier.  I sensed the rock as a conscious living substance – as alive and buzzing with atoms and molecules as we are; it is something sentient in its own right.  I felt the ancestors connecting their will – their energy – to that of the stone.  I felt a tremendous co-creative synergy between the people and the rock, allowing vast megaliths to be quarried, moved and placed into position.  There are woodcutters, still, who will speak to trees – explaining why they are to be cut, what their timber will become and enlisting their co-operation in what will be a joint enterprise.  I believe the ancient master masons had this connection to the stone, and their great works, constructed with care and awe on Seth’s co-ordination points, endure.

IMG_20151030_111813 (1)

Kate dowsing beside a talayot, November 2015

Perhaps, by putting reasoning and logic aside, we were able to move through time as easily as William’s thoughts moved through space, to approach something of the origins of these sacred and ancient places.

 

 

Kate hopes to organise another tour of the sacred places of Mallorca in April 2016.  Let me know if you’d like me to put you in touch with her.

Lime Cottage Update

Living room - then

Living room – then

A few words of explanation to those who are new to Janonlife and haven’t been following the LIME story…

Last year I took a huge step into the unknown and bought an empty, ruined shell of a place – against the advice of many, I might add – because, despite the collapsed ceiling, the cracks in the walls, the leaking roof and the rats, it felt like home in some strange way.

Owning an ancient cottage had always been a distant dream, although I have to admit, my reveries had revolved around buildings with a little more superficial charm than this one at first presented.  It was an ugly dung brown colour with peeling paintwork and an unpleasant 1950s extension at the back.  A neglectful landlord had literally left it to rot over many years.

The first six months of 2014 were taken up with structural surveyors, planning officers, solicitors and insurers.  Not fun.

Living room - now

Living room – now

The next three months revolved around electricians, carpenters, plumbers and builders.  The cottage was encased in scaffolding; the garden was lost under ever-expanding piles of builders’ rubbish and I was hiding somewhere inside amongst the dark and dust. Drilling, hammering and inane banter on tinny radios had become the backdrop to my everyday life.

I’m not pretending it wasn’t stressful and difficult, but I was kept together by the kindness of others and the endless synchronicities and small miracles that took place.  I adopted the belief that Life Is Miracles Expected, which is how the cottage earned its name.  I found that I needed only to focus on a desired outcome to any situation, and the resolution would be perfect.  The cottage’s main gift to me has been to enable me to see the whole of LIFE that way.

In mid autumn, the workmen drifted away and the cottage and I finally had the chance to bond.

“Well, at least you’ve got a blank canvas,” a friend remarked grimly, when he looked around.  True.   I’d never tackled solo decorating before, but having started on the tiny pantry and been pleased and surprised with the result, my confidence started to grow and I moved on to work on whole rooms.

The kitchen - then

The kitchen – then

I know my limits, and have a loyal, friendly band of workmen/handymen to draw on when a task is beyond me, but those limits of mine have grown fewer as I’ve mastered new skills.

When a man arrived yesterday to dismantle and freecycle an unwanted wardrobe, I was able to offer him the use of my power screwdriver.
“That’s a tidy little piece of kit,” he told me, as he finished.
Certainly is!

The kitchen - now

The kitchen – now

Even drilling holes in the 350 year old stone walls no longer holds fears for me (well not many, anyhow).

This week a specialist lime plasterer is coming to give the upstairs walls a new spring coat in traditional style.  Then I’ll be back to the paint catalogues, vintage furniture boutiques and charity shops to begin the next stage.

I suspect it will be never-ending.  I hope so, because despite the costs and the effort involved, I’m loving the creative process of renovating Lime Cottage, and I feel that the cottage is enjoying it too.