Dying to Understand

Fall, Autumn, Leaf, Brown, Green, Yellow“I hear Daisy has gone now,” I remarked to a friend.
Daisy was elderly and ill. She’d taken to her bed and had been refusing food for some time, so it wasn’t a surprise.
“Yes,” Ali replied, “and boy is she in for a shock!”
I looked up in surprise for a moment, then realised what she meant.
“You mean she didn’t believe there would be anything after life?”
“Exactly,” Ali smiled. “She was adamant that ‘she’ would die along with her body. End of. What must she be thinking now?”

Bison, Cave Of Altamira, Prehistoric ArtIt’s the third time recently that such an idea has been placed in my mind.  The first was when I read a highly praised and undeniably well-researched and well-argued book called The Mind in the Cave.  Its author, David Lewis-Williams, speaks eloquently and convincingly about the world view of our ancient ancestors – those who decorated caves and rocks with incredible images of animals, geometric shapes, figures who appear to be somewhere between animals and humans etc.  It’s a great book, but for me, there is one huge issue I’ll be bold enough to disagree on.  It’s what Professor Lewis-Williams terms ‘the brain/mind problem’.  Here’s the way he resolves it (and, I’d suggest, the reason a book that deals mainly with ‘altered states’ has been so well received in scientific circles):

Two things we do know are, one, that the brain/mind evolved, and two, that consciousness (as distinct from brain) is a notion, or sensation, created by electro-chemical activity in the ‘wiring’ of the brain.

Ngc 3603, Nebula, Space, StarsThe second was a recent BBC documentary following three ageing British astronomers on a journey to recapture some of the finest moments of their younger days, when they had held eminent positions in observatories in the US, in the post Sputnik race-for-space of the mid-twentieth century.  They were lovely guys and all had enjoyed happy and successful lives.  Now, though, one was terminally ill and the others were in, shall we say, the late autumn of their lives.  Unsurprisingly, as they trekked through the mountains, the discussion turned to death.  One, despite his scientific training, clung to the Christian faith.  He admitted he didn’t see much logic in it, but still felt comforted by the God he’d been brought up to believe in and the idea that there would be an afterlife.  He mused, rather sadly though, that there probably wasn’t any need for astronomers in Heaven.  His colleagues seemed to adhere more to Daisy’s view, and that, presumably, of Professor Lewis-Williams.  When their bodies and brains died, so would their consciousness.  That – obviously, in their minds – meant no further existence.  As an 11-year-old I once taught commented, “I don’t think there’s anything after we die; it’s a bit sad really.”

Angel, Cherub, Stone, Angel WingsIt is a bit sad.  Has humanity, throughout its entire existence, had to make an unpleasant choice between, a. trying hard to hold faith in a religion that often seems illogical and unlikely, or b. accepting that our brains are so great, they can almost have us believing, sometimes, that there is something beyond this existence, although they know that not to be true?

What a terribly bleak choice.  When faced with it – many years ago – I didn’t like either of the options.  That’s why I’ve been on this fascinating journey, the one I’ve attempted imperfectly to document in this blog.  I believe now that I have proof that our consciousness exists above and beyond our physical bodies, however complex and impressive the ‘wiring’ of the brain may be.  I believe that there is no need to die in order to understand what is often called ‘God’ and that an ‘afterlife’ is not a possibility, but a given.  More than that, I believe we are here, right now, to explore this very issue, so that we no longer need to be sad or scared, hopeful or doubtful about death.




Who am I?

I’ve been re-reading Seth again… Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul.  It always sets me off on the meta-fizzies.

English: Prism Alchemical Art

English: Prism Alchemical Art (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As usually happens, though, my ‘main’ reading material is synchronously supplemented by other gems that drop into my lap, so to speak, and allow me to explore the subject matter in different and fascinating ways.  One of these was a five year old post from Ask The Council which I hadn’t seen before, in which they speak about the difference between spirit and soul.  The other was this recent post on Life is a Journey…Not a Guided Tour which ends with these questions:

Do you have a favorite way to connect to God? Is there a special place you go to, or a particular ritual that helps you get there?

So, as I say, my thoughts are now meta-fizzing in all manner of directions and if I trace them back all the way to their root, what I’m considering – usually at around 3am – is what comprises ‘me’ in the broadest sense?

It’s not the easiest of questions to answer.  For example, for the past three nights, I’ve been having a dream – one of those ‘to be continued..’ dreams that carries on where it last left off.  I’ve woken up thinking, “This is ridiculous.  Why on Earth am I having a dream this stupid?” But it’s kept going until the task I was involved in was complete.  (Thankfully, this morning it was, I think…)

English: no description

The dream, should you be interested, involved myself, another female and sometimes a child in covering a series of pyramids with a layer of what I can only describe as marshmallows and then with a top layer of – I hesitate to say this – what most closely resembled some non-conscious/non-living equivalent of huge rhinoceros-like creatures.  I can promise you it wasn’t easy.  None of us knew the reason for our toil; we only knew it had to be done, and done to a high standard.  All that, of course, involved some aspect of ME – an aspect, moreover, quite close to my conscious physical self.

Obviously, dreams aren’t to be taken literally and while I could blame the ones above on eating too much halloumi cheese (Mum always claimed cheese gave you weird dreams) I would prefer to interpret it thus:

English: Coast of Malta.

The other two people were a friend and her young son – people I recently spent time with on a journey to some ancient, sacred places in the Mediterranean.  There we found wondrous but mysterious sites (represented by the pyramids).  In order for us to be able to grasp some of the mysteries, we need to become comfortable with them (hence the coating of soft marshmallow) and attach many awkward, hard-to-handle truths/myths/concepts to them, in order to be able to process the strange and wonderful experiences we had.  Released by sleep from the mundane day-to-day activities, we were free to do this processing at a deeper level.  No doubt at some point, it will seep into our consciousness.

So anyhow, who-I-am runs, in my mind, something like this:

All-That-Is or Source or God/Goddess or what you will, is just that –   ALL     THAT     IS.

There are myriad aspects of this ALL.  Like the globs in a lava lamp, it can separate and recombine at will and does so in ways my little mind can’t begin to imagine, way beyond the limits of time or space.

One of this infinite number of aspects is my Spirit.  Looking at it fractally, my Spirit can be seen as my macrocosm – the sum of the parts of me.

This Spirit, too, has an infinite number of aspects.  These, too, can divide or weave together as suits them best.  They include a number of ‘souls’ – parts of the Spirit which have chosen to temporarily break away and experience a physical life.  One of those is the ‘ME’ sitting at the computer writing this.  The others are my reincarnational lives – ‘past’ and ‘future’ in human terms, but all co-existing and constantly influencing each other.

To complicate it still further, each physical ‘ME’ personality creates an infinite range of potential selves – what Seth calls ‘probable selves’.  Each time I make a choice from a range of options, the other options – those I’ve currently rejected – have a life of their own and head off along parallel paths.  I am, in a very real sense, the creator.

Each of my soul-personalities (‘lives’ if you prefer) has a range of ‘bodies’, from the dense, physical skin-suit I walk around Planet Earth in, through the etheric (spiritual Sat-Nav) and on to the astral, mental, higher-mental and causal selves, which variously link them to one-another, to the Spirit and, eventually, to All-That-Is.

Since the choices and experiences of physical life feed directly into Creation, there are other aspects of All-That-Is who guide and assist ME throughout the experience.  I can interpret these in various ways, from hunches, dreams and intuition, through synchronicities and serendipitous meetings with other soul-personalities, to spirit guides, angels, gods and goddesses or however my current cultural references permit me to interpret them.

So, to return to Susan’s questions…  In one sense, of course, I’m never separated from God, since I am part of the ALL.  However I’d be the first to admit that the connection is usually tenuous, to say the least, from my conscious perspective.  I’ve been on this path a long time in Earth years now, and I’ve learned to dowse with a crystal pendulum over my computer keyboard, in order to converse with my Guides, my Higher Self and even the Higher Selves of those particularly close to me.

My other way of making that contact is to lie in bed, with eyes closed and reach my hands upwards, palms outstretched, until I feel a tingling in them.  This I interpret as ‘healing’.  If I keep my hands there long enough, they begin to move by themselves, settling for a few moments over various parts of my body and often over the main chakra points.  When they come to rest on the bed, I feel for more healing, imagine a flame cupped between them, and mentally invite anyone I know who is in need of healing or comfort to step through the flame and share my connection to All-That-Is.

The g** word

Stained glass of the west window in the north ...


When I was five and a half, I had a huge crush on Paul Bancroft, a boy about my age who lived down the road.  That is why, when Mum – tied to the house with the new baby – asked me whether I’d like to go to Sunday school with the Bancrofts each week, I accepted eagerly.


Did I know what I was letting myself in for?  Absolutely not.


Each Sunday morning I’d squeeze into the Bancrofts’ car – next to Paul, obviously – and go with them to Sung Eucharist; ours was the highest of Anglican churches.  I grew to adore the heady mix of coloured light filtering through Victorian stained glass, misted by the smoke of incense, the thundering of the organ music, the men in heavily embroidered robes processing, bowing and scraping at the front and the chanting of incomprehensible texts.  The reason for all this escaped me completely, but the theatricality was utterly enchanting.


Part way through the service, we children were led out to the little hall next door by a young lady with fair hair called Miss Steel.  We coloured pictures of Biblical scenes and listened to stories about Jesus.  Miss Steel didn’t like questions, I soon discovered, especially those that started ‘But why did…?’  She liked us to listen quietly and colour neatly, so that’s what I did.


The G** word rarely came up.  We heard a lot about Our Father, who was, apparently, no relation of the one reading the Sunday paper at home.  We heard a lot about Jesus, too.  We were told he was perfect – a fact I accepted cheerfully enough until we heard the tale of how he destroyed a fig tree, just because he was feeling peckish and it didn’t happen to be fruiting at the time.  Then there was the time he cast out some devils and sent them into a herd of pigs, who promptly ran, lemming-like, over the nearest cliff and perished.


“Miss Steel, are you sure these stories are right?” I ventured.
“The Bible is the Word of God,” she responded, curtly.
And that was the end of the discussion.



By the time I was approaching my teens, we had a new vicar – a man I disliked as thoroughly as I disliked anyone on the planet.  He had raised my hackles by walking into my little brother’s infant class at school one day, asking children who had been Christened to raise their hands and then calmly telling the rest of the class that, should they die, they would go to Hell.  He brought a whole new dimension to the concept of cold calling to tout for business.  Goodness knows what trail of devastation he left in his wake as he swept out in his crow-black robe, leaving the class teacher to comfort terrified and snivelling seven-year-olds.


My mother, fearing I was moving to the dark side, enrolled me in the vicar’s Bible study class.  I lasted about three weeks before being asked to leave.  The other kids sniggered into their Bibles as I locked antlers with the hated vicar, and asked all the questions that had been simmering throughout those years of Sunday school and church.

I was told repeatedly that I just needed to have Faith.  His face changed from pink to white to puce with amazing rapidity as I asked what sort of loving god would condemn little kids to eternal torment just because their parents hadn’t brought them to be daubed with a bit of water by a priest, and where it said that in the Bible anyway.  I asked about that fig tree.  It was still bothering me.  I asked what happened to devout Hindus and Muslims when they died.  I asked whether, hand on heart, he could be quite sure that this Bible he had so much faith in had been translated right, because there were some rather serious contradictions.  I asked about that bit where Jesus says that each of us is capable of doing any of the miracles he did, and then some.  The vicar particularly disliked that question, I noticed.


Here ended my ecclesiastical experience.  Much to the distress of my mother and Mrs Bancroft (and probably the grim relief of the vicar) I pronounced myself an agnostic and set about discovering my own set of beliefs.  I wasn’t turning my back on Jesus, merely suspecting that he’d been seriously misquoted.  As for God… the jury stayed out for many decades.

Available in paperback and Kindle editions

Available in paperback and Kindle editions

When I finally got around to writing the book of my own thoughts on Life’s big questions, I approached a publishing house I’d long admired.

They initially expressed a keen interest.  However, they asked, would I mind removing the g** word from the book and finding some other way of expressing the concept?

I thought long and hard about whether I was prepared to do that.  I talked to my editor.  I talked to my closest friend.  Both said I should hold firm, so I did.

I self-published the book, complete with g** word.

It includes – to the horror of certain members of my family – the words:

I am God.  Don’t get jealous – so are you.

Interestingly, though, just about all the channelled material coming through now backs up the idea that, through accident and design, the New Testament is incomplete, to say the least and that – as I’d long ago suspected, the message was intended to be one of self-empowerment and self-knowledge.

You may, for example, want to check this recent post on Ask Higgins.







Thoughts on travels beyond spacetime

Logo representing spacetime.

That last post I wrote (or half-wrote; I had help) seems to have caused more than a little brain-ache for many of the brave souls who battled their way through to the end.  I’m not at all surprised, given that I’d been struggling with the ideas contained in it for some years beforehand.

That’s why I decided to see if I could make the main idea raised in it slightly clearer.

Putting aside for now the weird and unusual way that I am able to communicate telepathically with a friend in London, without his conscious knowledge, we are left with the information this higher dimensional aspect of him is able to share.

Will has autistic spectrum perception.  His diagnoses have included semantic-pragmatic disorder and Aspergers.  Diagnoses don’t interest me in the least, but I’m fascinated by the difference in the way people with ASP (P not D, as I see it as a different form of Perception, not a Disorder) access knowledge from the Cosmos/ Universal Spirit/ God Self  – or whatever you prefer to call it .

Русский: Эзотерика

In our metaphysical ramblings, Will has explained it to me this way:  All of us have higher aspects of ourselves, sometimes called subtle bodies.  In most neuro-typical people, our links to these dimensions are via the etheric body – an energy field that is measurable and even visible to some.  It acts, he tells me, the way the sat-nav in your car does – picking up messages from ‘above’ to guide us through our daily lives.

For individuals with ASP, the connection is different.
‘THE CONNECTIONS BETWEEN THE BODIES GO FAR DEEPER BUT CAN PULL APART,’  he explains, with typical understatement.  There, in a nutshell, we have the apparently positive and negative aspects of the autistic state – an ability to tap directly into higher dimensions of the Self and an equal ability to disconnect from aspects of themselves which can leave carers and friends baffled and concerned.

While he was in his teens, Will and I spent many happy hours together, discussing the kind of issues we now chat about via my pendulum.  Many aspects of his knowledge amazed me, especially when he  explained subjects I was reading about in information channelled from higher dimensional beings – the Seth Material and Conversations with God, for example.

He also confided that at times he found himself experiencing parallel lives – ones in which he and some other parts of his experience were the same, but subtle or sometimes greater differences were evident.  As this was involuntary, the poor lad became intensely anxious and nervous, stuck as he was in an Alice in Wonderland world where nothing could be relied on to stay the same.  I wonder if Lewis Carroll had similar experiences…


The compact disc

These ‘other lives’ have troubled and fascinated me ever since.   The closest I came to a rational explanation was a passage in Conversations with God, in which physical life is compared to a CD rom, containing every possible outcome for every possible choice we make.

Let’s assume for a moment that this cosmic CD exists (akashic records, perhaps?) in some realm beyond space and time.  While we are in our skin-suits – being human beings – we normally select one ‘track’ from the CD rom at a time.  As Will pointed out in my previous post, each time we make a choice, our personal time line changes. We jump to a new track.  It was this aspect of infinite pre-destiny/choice that prompted me to use the analogy of a video game in my book LIFE: A Player’s Guide.

So not only do I have ‘past’ and ‘future’ lives (the quotation marks are there to remind me that time only exists as an aid to sequential cause and effect in our 3D existence) but each of my lives – including the present incarnation – has an infinite range of options.  That’s where the Law of Attraction fits in, I suppose.  We can select which of the myriad lives we wish to put our consciousness into – miracles included.

The next part of Will’s master-class explained how the personality or essence of oneself permeates each of those lives and – this is huge – how what we do in one life has an effect on every other life: past, future, probable or possible.  That, though, will have to wait for another post.




Refugee camp for Rwandans located in what is n...

A day or so ago, I had the following request from somebody I know and respect greatly:

“If you have ever wondered why there is so much suffering in the world and felt overwhelmed by it I would love to know how you moved on from that.”

This lady is going through a great deal of suffering of her own at the moment.  I’m awed that she has the time and energy to concern herself about the world’s suffering, when she already has plenty to contend with.  The least I can do is to offer her my own response and, given the news items and social media posts we are all seeing at the moment, I thought there might be a wider audience for my reply.

So what follows is very much my personal truth.  I’m not suggesting that anyone else should believe it or follow it, but if anything here feels right to you, by all means feel free to adopt whatever sounds helpful.

To start with, this is what I DON’T believe:

  • I don’t believe in The Devil or any of the ‘forces of evil’ humanity has enjoyed blaming for its problems through the ages.
  • I don’t believe in a vengeful or ‘just’ God who behaves like the worst sort of patriarchal Victorian father, setting up an impossibly high standard of expectations and punishing us for our sins when we fail to live up to them.
  • In fact I don’t believe in sin.
  • I don’t believe in Karma. In my truth, we are not here to atone for things we or the ancestors did ‘wrong’ either in this life or another.
  • I don’t believe humanity is intrinsically bad, wicked, cruel or evil.

Now for what I DO believe:

  • I believe that everyone – each single human being – does what feels and seems right to them, given their situation at the time.  If they are coming from a position of love, they will give, share, help and benefit the world around them in whatever way they choose.  If they are coming from a place of fear or want, they may bully, torture, attack or destroy; they may seek scapegoats (racial minorities, politicians, corporations, the rich, the poor…) to vent their anger and frustration on; they may believe themselves to be powerless and controlled by forces beyond their control.
  • I believe we create our own reality.  Yes, I’m still struggling with this one.  My ego keeps telling me there’s a solid, unchanging basic world here and I’m just a bit-part player who can’t do that much to change things.  Other sources tell me otherwise.  They tell me the keyboard I’m typing on is almost entirely empty space.  They tell me I have complete control over the world I’m living in and that I use my own energy – the power that comes from my thoughts and emotions – to create it.
  • I believe that every atom in the cosmos is a tiny holographic part of GOD.  That makes the universe a living, expanding, creative, vibrant web of which you and I and everyone and everything else out there is a vital and perfect part.
  • So yes, I believe that we – individually and collectively – have tremendous power and are able to form our own reality, by focussing our energy where we choose.
  • I believe that ‘I’ (in the eternal soul sense) chose to be born and to have this particular life, with all its attendant heartbreaks, terrors and difficulties, because that’s what being a human is all about – just like the computer game I used as an analogy in my book.  We all select a storyline beset with puzzles, problems and difficulties in order to find ways to solve and overcome them, to bring love to them and to expand as the divine beings that we really are.  The bigger the problems, the greater the opportunities for growth and expansion – for ‘spreading the love’ if you like.  As Kahlil Gibran said, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”
  • I believe I’m not acting alone; there is infinite help available from the cosmos.  Whether we call this help god, goddess, saints, angels, spirit, guides, nature or muse is irrelevant.  We can interpret and visualise it any way we like, but it is real and there for us, always and all ways.
  • I believe this is tough to grasp and work with, because we’ve just emerged from around 2500 years of giving our power away and expecting others to solve the world’s (and our) problems, while we sit subserviently and wring our hands in despair.

English: Job's Sons and Daughters Overwhelmed ...

Several people have asked me recently why I don’t feel bitter towards those in my life who have caused me suffering on a personal level.  It’s because I know that at some level, I consciously drew those experiences to myself.  They didn’t feel good at the time; they hurt like mad.  It’s those experiences, though, and the ways I finally found to work through them, which have made me the person I am today.  And I haven’t finished growing yet.

So to answer the lady’s question (finally!) I do see the suffering in the world and yes, I could easily become overwhelmed by it, on a personal and a global level.  However I can make choices as to where I put my energy.  I choose to put it into feeling positive, because that helps to ‘grow’ more positivity.  I choose, in my very small way, to spread hope and light and love, because – according to my truth – I am a holographic spark of God and that means I am powerful enough to change the world.  So, of course, are you.


PS  A dear and wise friend reminded me yesterday of Anita Moorjani’s amazing story.  In case anyone reading this is interested, click here for her Ted Talk: Dying to Live.  It explains with far more eloquence than I can muster the relationship between life and suffering.



Tropical Storm Yagi in the North Pacific Ocean

“Try to stay at the eye of the storm” a wise friend once commented, when we were discussing those times when everyone and everything around you starts typhooning.

I’ve become rather good at that now.  In fact, for the week or so leading up to this weekend, I was very aware that every friend who contacted me had a problem.  People they’d trusted had let them down, finances had suddenly become a nightmare, relationships had fractured, illness or physical pain was afflicting them.

I listened to each of them with compassion and care.  I echoed back their statements, to allow them to find answers or ways forward where I could, and I tried very hard not to offer solutions or to drift into monologues about similar situations of my own, because I’ve learned that neither of those is particularly helpful.

You see, the Janonlife belief system is that each of us creates our own reality – and that includes any difficulties and problems – in order to gain the most experience possible from this short and tricky lifetime we are currently playing out, and to bring as much light as possible from our expanded, multi-dimensional selves into the existence of the Humans we are Being at this particular point.

I take full responsibility for what happened next, because I actually remember the thought that triggered it.

“This eye-of-the-storm bit is all well and good,” I commented to what I call my God-Self (also variously known as Soul, Spirit, Higher-Self, Essence, God, Goddess or what you will).  “Trouble is, this life has been going along smoothly for such a long time now.  I think I could do with a slight tweak, just to throw me a wake-up call.”

Oh be careful what you ask for, my friends!  By the end of the week, I was laid out by a physical meltdown.  All energy evaporated.  My skin became hypersensitive – to the point that even turning over in bed was agony.  My digestive system seemed to have temporarily been replaced by a particularly bad-tempered nest of vipers.  Strange swooshing noises swirled between my ears at every attempt to move about and waves dizziness overtook me even when I stayed still.

“OK.  Right.  Fine.  Got it,” I told the G-S.  “I take to my bed, drink water, stop eating and wait to see what comes in terms of experience from this lot.  Got it.  And could you ease up slightly on the stomach cramps please?”

So that’s how I spent the next few days.  I’ve had enough similar episodes in my life to recognise that – just as the New Agey lot say – physical illness is, quite literally, dis-ease.  This time, I’d even noticed beforehand that something inside me needed a hiatus – a cessation of everyday activities to give it the time and space to shift.

I didn’t force it.  I felt way too ill to do so, in any case.  I knew that something would come of this.  It always does.


Anger (Photo credit: ZORIN DENU)

On Sunday night, the something arrived.  Just as the physical symptoms were beginning to subside and I was ready for a relatively normal night’s sleep, huge tidal waves of anger swept through me.

Shaken but not altogether surprised, I grabbed a notepad and allowed a storm of fury against situations, individuals and events – recent and far in the past – to flow through the pen.  Whoa!  Can’t remember the last time I did anger.  I was amazed how much I’d been bottling up.

Did I feel any better for expressing it?


I now had a list of people and events that I felt totally, utterly, mind-numbingly furious about.  I sat back exhausted for a few minutes and asked the G-S to remind me what came next.

“Er, mirrors?” the G-S hinted.

Oh yes.   Of course – I knew that.  Each of them was mirroring something inside my self – showing me aspects of my Being Human self that I was ready to change.

I returned to the list and worked my way through each situation.  None of these people was intentionally angering me.  Each was mirroring behaviour or attitudes I wanted to alter in myself.  Some took a bit of ferreting out.  One remained stubbornly insoluble, so I decide to sleep on it.

On Monday morning I woke feeling extremely weak, but physically fine.  All trace of anger and spite had evaporated along with the mysterious illness.  The elusive answer arrived as I relaxed in a fragrant bubbly bath and I knew the dis-ease had done its work well.

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