Saturday, September 30, 2006


I have a laptop! It belongs to my host here in Barcelona.She hasn't a clue what to do with it, and it was not working, but she got it working this morning, called in a techie from the phone company, and now I am on wireless!
And I have a phone card which I can use on her phone. So I can call the people in Barcelona that are involved in the Course, and the Unity Church, and the people from Barcelona who I met in Formentara and Valencia, etc.
Now, you want to hear the latest? Of course you do. 
You already know the story of how Sonia Haynes, the lovely Jamaican "intuitive" that I met in  the cafe in the Lonsdale Quay market who, moments after the Voice had asked me why I didn't go to Spain, asked me if I going to Spain! I told her that driving to the market, not five minutes earlier, I had heard a voice suggest that I go to Spain. With the hair on her arms standing on end, she said that she now knew why she had come to the market that day to sell her meditation CD's. Not a single person had even stopped to talk to her all day. She proceeded to give me a full-blown reading right then and there. She told me that  I would meet the love of my life in a cafe in Barcelona.
You may remember some of the details of that prophecy that I shared with you; the fact that she described the relationship as "yummy, yummy, yummy!" She also descrilbed it in other ways. She told me that he was a great cook, a brilliant Renaissance man who spoke five languages, that he was an articulate, and charismatic man, that there wasn't anything he couldn't do. 
In fact, she described the man I had visualised and written about two weeks earlier during a course with my good friend Miriam Evers. I had written that in Europe I met a Renaissance man who spoke five languages and had a house in Europe. I had written that we would buy a house in Ireland together, where I could write. When I told her this, Sonya said, "No, not Ireland. Spain."
She told me that I would hear him before I saw him, and as soon as I heard his thickly accented voice, I would know it was him, and I would be terrified, I would want to run away, because I had been through a relationship that hurt me so much that I never wanted to feel that way again. She said that once I accepted that this was it, I would be absolutely besotted with him. She saw me looking up at him, in the cafe, mesmerized, as he talked. That was the only question I had for her, "Is he articulate?" Most of the people I meet don't even know the meaning of that word. After my last relationship with a man who couldn't spell, and knew nothing of the world, either politics or literature or anything else outside of his small world, I knew that was essential for me.
Here in Spain and Morroco many, many men have tried, but only one of them, the professor in Morroco even came close to being what I am looking for. A Brilliant, spiritual, successful man is not so easy to find, I guess! But well worth the wait, I am sure.
What a blast, someone who I actually want to listen to! And will shut up for! Someone who can teach me something!

She saw us travelling together, she saw me with my glasses on the end of my nose, painting on a beach in Greece in my two piece Mediterranean blue bathing suit, which she described to a "t." That particular piece is what hooked me, it was so accurate in the way she described the bathing suit I have been wearing here, the bathing suit I bought in Sarasota after I talked with my parents in "rehabilitation." By the way, my mother also said she went to school every day, and that she had a teacher and his name was Tan! Sounds Chinese to me. I wonder if he has "raven blue-black" hair?
She said that he had loved deeply once, and lost that love, and had been waiting and hoping for another, but he did not believe it was possible. She told me that his guides were telling him that I was coming and to wait for me. She also told me that the metaphor for the relationship was that he would hold me in his hands, and protect me so that I could grow the rest of the way up, because I had not had the protection I needed when I was a child. She said he would hurry home when he was away from me, because he could not bear to be parted from me, he loved me so much.
You know how, when I was in New York for the Sterling Women's weekend, I met a woman in a clothing shop who told me the clothes in New York were nice, but  I "could do better in Barcelona." 
You remember how at the workshop I received a card with a WISH that I would "Hurry home,so that he could hold me in his HANDS so that we could bask in the warmth of our love. "
I carry that card with me everywhere, along with a picture of a man who looks like the image I saw that was also on the table at the dinner in New York.
Sonya had told me that basically this relationship is a "done deal." I asked Sonia how I should find him. Her answer was blunt and to the point. "Have you never heard of letting spirit guide you?" Seeing that this was not enough, she suggested that I paint his face, which she told me was dark, with a square jaw, that he was my age, and very strong and good looking.
Sonya had promised me that she would "hook me up" with him in the Astral Plane. But that did not happen in our session.
But beyond that, seeing that was not enough for me, she suggested that I take what I knew of him, and paint a picture of him.
She had already given me more than enough inspiration and information. I decided I could give this to spirit and watch for the signs, which came abundantly, and I could do this myself.
So, I hooked up with him myself, in my own way. I did a session on my "Angel Board" which is a sort of protected form of the Ouija board, and, sure enough, just as the spirit came through many years ago and told me, six years before it happened, that my sisters twins were dead in a canoe accident, (I thought both, but it was actually one,)  he came through, powerfully, unmistakeably, definitely. He told me his name, Zoltano Azroff. I knew that that was not a Spanish name. I asked where he was from. He said he was Macedonian. I asked how old he was. He said 60. I asked his birthday. He said November 5th. I asked how I would know him. He said, "I will say your name." Then, as if we were having a conversation, in real life, he paused, and said, "So, What is it?" I spelled out my name for him. And then I put the board away, and lay down on my bed, (where I found angel feathers, as you well know, because you were there when I found one of them.) As I lay looking out the window at the trees in the courtyard, I saw an image forming in the trees. It was an image of a man with a high forehead, a goatee, and a wise and knowing smile. He looked at me as if to say, "This is what I look like."
She warned me not to be too serious, because this man did not have money worries, he had done his life well, and now he just wanted to have fun!
I can handle that. Bring it on!
I certainly have had more than my share of fun here. I have had many wonderful experiences, not the least of which was my completely unplanned, spontaneous trip to Morroco, and my meeting with Professor Houssin who may be the one man able and willing to translate the Course into Arabic. The moment when Judith Skutch, now Whitson, the publisher of the Course, who Gary Renard hooked me up with, said, "Shelora, we have been waiting for you,"  is miraculous enough.
But I still have this hope that I will find my love. After all, the Course is different from any other spiritual teaching in that it basically says the way to God is two by two, in Holy Relationship, when two become as one. That is what I want, for the rest of my life, with one person with whom I can heal. That is my fervent prayer.Towards that end I have been working with forgiving all thoughts of separation, all ego comparisons, all ideas that I am guilty or separate in any way. I have been healing with my children, my ex husband, my mother, my father, my sister. Forgiving them, forgiving myself for separating myself from them through guilt or blame in any way, I am coming every day to deeper and deeper peace and innocence. I am ready to love again. And this one is for good, forever.
Now, of course, the question is, where IS he? How do I find him? I am going to investigate the Course peopIe here in Barcelona. I am going to try to contact this man who looks like the image I saw in the trees. I am going to try to contact Betty in Egypt, where they are travelling together.  I have her itinerary in the Brochure. I am also going to contact the Unity Church. I don't know what else to do. But I am not giving up. There were too many signs and portents.
Well, I have been in Europe for almost three months, and no sign of him. I am here in Barcelona sorting out my things and sending anything superfluous home. I am sorting through my papers yesterday, and I find a brochure from the Medium from Sarasota, Florida, Betty MCCormack, who "hooked me up" with my mother and father after my mother's death.
I must have told you how they each identified themselves unistakeably, in ways that no one could have told to a fake Medium. I am not sure if I told you that story, but it does not matter so much, except to say that this woman is exceptionally good, and accurate. A messenger extraordinaire.
I know that to many it sounds crazy, but she told me that my mother, after begging my forgiveness, saying that she took bad legal advice, and that it was a mistake, said she was working on my sister"Don't underestimate me. I amalready whisperhing in her ear."  to get her to understand that her intention was not to keep the proceeds of the house. She apparently  had actully believed that when the house was sold, which shespecifically had said she DID NOT WANT, that it would be divided between the three of us children, my brother, my sister and I.
Now all of this could have come from any mother to any daughter, but I knew it was my mother,  because when I asked what she looked like, she described herself as having "raven blue-black hair." These were the words she used to describe her hair when she was a young girl. In her vanity, she prided herself on the fact that her hair had blue highlights, like a raven´s wing, not red as is more usual.When  I asked how long her hair was, the Medium told me she was shaking her head to show it was long. My mother's hair was to her waist when she was young.That distant memory of my mother's self-description resounded in my mind and heart, and I was, at that moment convinced that this was actually my mother speaking through this medium, who kept reminding me that she was just a messenger.  
Through this messenger, my mother recounted that the skin on her face was not wrinkled any more.She said that the skin under her arms did not sag any more. She said something that she always used to say when she was alive, "Old age is for old people. It is not all it's cracked up to be. She always used to say, "The Golden Years are not so golden."  But, fromwhere she is now, she said, "It is golden now!" Remember, my mother was 93 years old, when she died. I asked her where my mother was. She replied that she was in "rehabilitation." She then told the medium that I should follow the gold bar and that would lead me forward. She did not understand that, and nor did I until later when I realized that she had meant the golden rule, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." And then my father came through, told me that it was good to see me and my mother back together again, that there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, that all things come to those who wait, that my day was coming, "Bastille Day." tThat mystified the Medium but was entirely clear to me. She asked me what that meant, was I French. "No," I said, "That is my birthday." Then my father told me to go ahead with my project, to "take it to the nucleus, and take it to the stars, and it would have great implications for humanity." He told me that he would help me to write the story. I asked him how, and he responded, "air writing." I guess that meant that he would talk to me through the air.
So, those are my marching instructions from my father. Since then he has appeared to me in the form of a Voice, and in the form of Light, in colours that are beautiful beyond belief. Opalescent, shimmering, on the water, or the snow, or any other place where white light is reflected intensely: I see navy blue, torquoise, lime green, mauve, pink, gold, dazzling shimmering, transparent colours, like a gell over thelight. My father's voice says, "This is what it looks like in Heaven. Glorious, isn't it?" Yes, it is. And so it is.  
My children do not believe me. They think I am crazy, that I am making it up. They do not believe that I saw Christ, either. But that is ok. It is not necessary for them to believe for it to be true.In fact, no matter how much of a case you make against yourself, no matter how fool-proof it is, it is not God-proof. The only case that God has against you is if you forget who you really are, and his only message is to restore you to your original innocence. This is where religion, with all its guilt and sin goes wrong. God is not about revenge. In fact, in the Course, Jesus clears that misconception up for once and for all. He talks about how the ego uses Scripture, the Bible, to justify its horrible, evil perception of the world, and of God, which it does not believe in at all, by saying "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord" and "The sins of the fathers will be visited unto the fourth generation." Jesus explains that this particularly vicious interpretation is completely incorrect, and that the purpose of saying Vengeance is mine is to take the whole idea away from humanity, and that the opportunity for healing will be visited upon the children, so that they may see the situation with new eyes, even unto the fourth generation, and, I am sure, beyond. So my children will understand some day, just as my mother had to die before she understood what she had resisted all her life, that ONLY LOVE IS REAL, and it cannot be threatened or destroyed.The crucifixion is one more piece of nonsense that Christ clarifies as unreal. He did it to demonstrate that the pain and suffering of the body is not real, that only eternal life is real. We DO NOT DIE! We are energy, vibration, and we live one long life, lasting tens of thousands of years. All that happens is that we change form. When I asked my mother how it was to die, she said, with her usual brevity. "Not bad."
 And so, in this lifetime, I have been blessed with memories of past lives, with the ability to see, vision, or clairvoyance, to hear, clairaudience, and to intuit, clairsentience. It scares a lot of people, but I cannot be silenced now. I have important work to do. And I am doing it! What a privilege it is to be able to extend the gift of healing that I have been given. I am filled with gratitude and wonder, every day.
So, yesterday, I looked at the brochure and saw shining out from it, the very face I saw in the trees. His name is Csonger Daniel. He is an internationally known healer, lecturer, and writer. His publications include: "Biotherapy: A Healing for the 21stCentury" Right now he is in Egypt with Betty McCormack, the woman who spoke with my parents and interpreted their messages to me. She is incredible.
I will now attempt to find him on the internet.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Waiting for a Miracle in Barcelona

Now I am in Barcelona, after an amazing eight hour trip on the ferrry from Ibiza. I was with a young boy I met in Formentara, Kristian (note the name!) who is beautiful being who I believe will become a rock star in Spain. He will sing songs of love and inspiration for his generation, which he considers ¨lost.¨ The first question he asked me was, "What is happening in this world?" It was a real question and deserved a real answer. So, of course, I did my best to give him one. But the short answer is, "We are healing the illusion of separation from all that there is." He calls that Gaia. I don´t care what you call it, we all feel it, and know it exists, like an ancient song of joy that echoes in our memories, and seems to call us home. Sometimes we mistake that for the home of our childhood, but it is much more universal than that, because not everyone has had this experience of a happy childhood, yet everyone has this sense of a purity and innocence and a feeling of Paradise lost. Some are more saddened by this feeling than others, some more aware, some react with anger and greed, and try to steal it from others who appear to have it, or they kill those who give to them the love they think they lack. But everyone, regardless of their experience, at some level knows the feeling I am speaking of, lurking behind the appearances of this veil of illusion we call the "real world."
In that "so-called 'real' world, which is actually a nightmare of separation, the events proceeding from the theft of my wallet in Valencia two weeks ago, continue to unfold. I arrived here in Spain and found out that the bank card which was sent here to Barcelona to the address of the woman I left my baggage with,  Maite, was rejected by her because, speaking only Spanish, she did not understand what was happening! My card was Fedexed immediately to me, but she had it sent back! So I waited for two weeks, and now I find I have to wait another two weeks!
It seems that there is something holding me here in Barcelona.
This morning I discovered that there is a lovely Brazilian artist staying in the same room I stayed in, in Maite's lovely apartment. And she too had all her money, 5000 Euros, her passport, her cards, everything stolen at the airport in Ibiza. She had to stay there for forty days waiting for her cards. She is the first person I have met here who has heard of the Course.
It feels as if there is a reason why I am being called back here. She told me that I should pay attention to the signs, and stay here. So I will.
Yesterday, on the ferry for eight hours in the Atlantic Ocean, with the sun glaring down on Kristian and I on the upper deck, the wind whipping my hair in my face, blowing my hat away, the engine pounding, the waves churning white in the wake of the boat, the sky clear and blue, I felt filled with an inexplicable sense of joy, you might even call it ecstasy. I feel so blessed to be here, to have survived all my adventures and come out with a sense of freedom and love intact. In fact, I feel fantastic, as if the best part of my life is beginning.
In fact, I was realizing that when I was seventeen I came to Europe for four months before I went to Montreal to the National Theatre School of Canada. An Italian man who was a guest in our home for a year while he worked at a travel agency, returned to Naples. We continued to correspond, and a year later, he sent me a ticket. I had a weekend to get a passport. My father got a friend of his to open his photography shop on Sunday, take the picture for the passport I needed, and couriered it to a friend of his in the government in Ottawa. On Tuesday I had the passport, and I flew to New York, with a letter from Augusto in Italian. When I arrived at the ship, I was directed to the address on the envelope of the letter, the Captain of the ship. He read itm ub Italian, and then smiled at me, and welcomed me to the Captain's table! I had dinner with the officers that night!  Mahogany, crystal, white linen, candlelight, a boat built in the nineteen thirties making its last village home, owned by the ancient Grimaldi family of Italy, Prince Ranier of Monaco being one of the Grimaldis, some of the richest ship owners on the planet.
I cruised from New York to Brazil, throught the Carribean. Every night I stood at the prow of the boat, watching the stars and the foam on the sea, and listening to  the 45 record of Percy Faith's "A Summer Place" (Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue. Brad Pitt, eat your heart out! ) that I had brought with me. I at in a swing onboard with a young man from Brussels, Thieri, who was being forced into an arranged marriage by his wealthy family (shades of Titanic!) and, of course, we fell in love, for a moment, just long enough for him to understand that he was going to tell them, after this trip he was being sent on to "think it over", that he was not going to marry as ordered.
I shared a Cabin with a wonderful woman from France. At seventeen she seemed so sophisticated to me. Her name was Ogla Cazmir Jeanon. She was a combination of Spanish, Russian and French. We spoke French together, thanks to my highschool education. She told me that her boyfriend was Briggite Bardot's manager. For those of you who do not know who Brigitte Bardot is, or was, she was the French sex kitten who started the whole blonde bimbo thing.Before there was Monroe, there was Bardot! ( Rhymes, you know.) She told me that if I came to Paris, I should look her up! Which I did, but that comes later in the story.
After visiting all the Carribean islands, we crossed the Atlantic to Naples, where I was supposed to meet the man who had gifted me this incredible cruise. But instead came a stranger to take me to the hotel, where two dozen roses awaited me in my room. The next morning Augusto arrived to tell me that he was married! So, I cried, ended the relationship right then and there.
As if reflecting my sadness, the lights in the hotel went out that night. I found myself standing on the terrace watching the lights and life in the courtyard opposite. I became aware that there was someone standing next to me, and we began to talk. He turned out to be a Spanish Concert pianist on tour. He took me out for dinner, and told me I was beautiful, and I should continue to see Europe on my own. Which I did, for four months, and then returned to Canada to attend the National Theatre School in Montreal, where I had been chosen as one of seven girls and seven boys from all across Canada to attend. I learned from the greatest talents in the country, and had an amazingly wonderful time there too, despite all the scary and challenging things that inevitably happen when you are young and inexperienced. 
But back to that trip of long ago.
When I reached Paris, of course I went to see Olga, who lived in a beautiful apartment right on the Champs Elysee. She took me with her everywhere. One day we went to the hairdressers, and Anouk Aimee a famous French movie star, was there, their version of Audrey Hepburn, the gamin.  And then she took me to the office of Brigitte Bardot´s manager. There was a life sized photo of her in the lobby. The two of them, Olga and her boyfriend, thought I reminded them of Zazie, a character in a film that was popular at that time, "Zazie dans Le Metro" and so they adopeted me. He drove a red MG, small English racing car, convertible. They put me up on the back seat above them, and asked me where I wanted to go! They showed me Paris like that. What a blast I had! I have been so lucky in my life!
So, as I was on the boat last night coming from Ibiza to Barcelona, I realized I was at the back of the boat now, watching the sunset. I realized also that the sunset of my life is the richest time of my life, full of the deep Burgundy and Indigo and Gold ochre hues of the sunset over the ocean. I want to experience this time of richness and share it, like the Madeira wine I drank on board the "ship of fools," as I called it! It had everything, rich widows, and a third class filled with Jamaicans and a steel band, and wild dancing, just like in the movie Titanic. It was fantastic, and I have had a life filled with those kind of adventures. Now I want to share them with those young ones who come behind, and who have the task of returning the world to joyful innocence, and finding cause to celebrate.
Which brings me to my purpose here in Europe. I am to inspire and teach and help gently those who are seeking. Those who ask me how and why I am so young and so happy I will tell. I will tell my story.
It is a story of miracles, one after another, compiled until I see nothing but joy and forgiveness everywhere. I will make my teaching and hopefully my life here, and in Canada. Wherever I am called, I will go. If it is back to Morroco, I will go there. I am being gently guided, and I am constantly astonished at home intricate, and yet simple the Divine plan is. And it is NEVER as I plan it! That is the one constant thing that I think is true. If I depend on my own strength, no wonder I am afraid. When I surrender and ask for help and guidance, I am shown the next step. It unfolds as if I were being "gently carried down a beautiful path in summer."
So, as I was leaving Ibiza, I wondered what the purpose of going there had been, and, in the hairdressers where I went to make myself lovely for ....I don't know who,  I met a young Dutch woman who has a big house and six other houses. Her husband builds them.She has a vision of using her big house for workshops. It hit me. No one here knows anything about the Course. I am evolving into becoming a Teacher of the Course. I can teach here, in Paradise. People would love to come here!
I must finish my book, and come back here and do workshops, introducing the Course in Miracles, but combining it with all the creative arts, performing, singing, painting, all directed towards a discovery of the truth of who you are through creating your way home.
I can feel the way of the work forming and taking shape inside of me. Perhaps I will use Paulo Cohelo's work as a structure, with his exercises from El Camino del Santiago, the Pilgrimage. I also am realizing as I study the Course that there is a structure to the lessons that can be condensed into the structure for my book, because I am learning certain lessons that depend on others. Each group of lessons builds to a breakthrough, and the experiences that I am having seem to fall into a natural order. As you know, I am sure, the Course says that there is no order of difficulty in miracles. The golden thread of my story is one miracle after another, beginning with the miracle of my mother's being saved at birth from certain death by her grandmother.
The miracles in my life now appear like pearls on a string, each one perfect, each one formed from a resistance to the grit of pain and suffering, a sort of crucifixion which transforms them into gleaming orbs of opalescent light, little suns, all strung together on a golden thread.
This is the structure I want for my book. That, and the journey to the center of the labyrinth, holding the golden thread. Because we each have to confront our own form of the Minotaur, the demon of our own chaos and confusion and pain, caused by our own misperception and fear of the Will of God. The fear of the Will of God is one of the strangest beliefs ever made by human kind.
Now, my patience is being tested again, because I have already waited two weeks for my bank card, but now I must wait again. Why? The Course says this: "What could you not accept if you knew that everything was gently planned by one who has only your best interests at heart?" So, for some reason I find myself in Barcelona again, and compelled to stay here for another week to ten days! Yikes! I felt like I was coming home, coming home to a lover who is waiting for me with open arms. I still have faith!
Last night as the sun sank over the Atlantic, Kristian and I watched, as the sliver of moon rose into the Indigo. We had been talking all day about God, a word he simply cannot accept, too many connotations of religion.  We finally decided to refer to it as ALL THAT IS! I like to refer to it is the ONENESS. At any rate, we came to a place where the first star was shining just to the right and above the moon, and I taught him the rhyme I learned as a child and passed on to my children:
Star light,
Star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may,
I wish I might,
Have this wish,
I wish tonight!
I have taught that rhyme to children in the Sahara desert, and there I was teaching it to 21 year old musician, who knows that I am returning to Barcelona as "The City of LOVE!" So together we wished on the star, for each others happiness, and our dreams to come true. I feel an excitement I cannot explain. I feel as if everything I ever wanted is within reach now. I am creating it as we speak. It is flowing through me with an abundance of Grace.
The Brazilian artist has a shop called "Full of Grace" I love that! Her paintings are filled with colour and joy and light. They are so happy. She had the same experience as me, being robbed. I think that I will put together a workshop in Ibiza, with teachers of painting, music, and drama, all tied togehter with theme of  Healing through Forgiveness. I think I will call it: Return to Innocence.
 I have so much to give, and I have such a wonderful story to tell. I think it is a stage show, a theatrical performance, with lights and dance and music, because it depends on my energy, combined with that of the youth around me. I see Kristian as part of it. His partner has theater school here in Barcelona, and he is a genius at lighting and sound. I am beginning to see it now.
You should have seen us on the beach that last day in Formentara! It was Paradise! White sand, no clothes, brown bodies everywhere, swimming, taking pictures of each other, running in the sand and the water, so free, so happy, like children. Kristian and his friend Germana, from Naples simply could not get over how good I look "for my age!" The want to know how I do it! Even Maite, the woman in Barcelona who grabbed me last night when I finally arrived at her door, saying that she thought I was dead, said I looked younger, and asked me what my secret is. I don't have one, except what Kristian said to me when he found out how old I am, "You must be with God!" True.
As soon as we met we recognized each other. He is beautiful, powerful, innocent, free, young, strong, the way that Christ was when I saw him painted on the cloud above Maui. His hair is brown and gold, long, and he wears white, always, and beads.
I was talking with him about the Course, in a cafe, and I gave him the book, telling him to put his finger down. He did, and it was on the words,
" I am the Light in which God sees"
At that moment there was light all around him, mauve and pink light, and he looked at me and told me there was light all around me too. We were inside a dark cafe. There was no window in the corner where we were. It was an inner light radiating from both of us, visible to both of us, in that moment of joining and remembrance. At that moment he said, "I have never felt like this with anyone! It is as if you KNOW me! And I know YOU!" And so it is.
I feel the same way at this age. I feel young,  strong, free, filed with love and joy and ecstasy! I feel filled with hope and excitement about the future. It is as if everything I have done in my life has led me to this moment, as if I have returned to the innocence of my childhood, yet with the wisdom and knowledge of experience. Everything that has happened in my life has filled me with a sense of the exquisite nature of the Truth, which is overflowing Love. Literally, "My cup runneth over!"
My skin is brown the way it was at the end of the summer at the cottage in Ontario. I remember a picture taken of me, where my skin was so brown, my hair so white blonde, as I stood in the doorway of the cottage in my white nightgown, billowing around me in the breeze, that at first my farther thought it was a negative, photos back then being in black and white. The blonde curls are not there, but my hair is bleached white by the sun, and straight. I am tanned all over the way I was when I was a little girl and my sister and I lay in the rowboat, naked, to the dismay of the neighbouring cottages who would not let their children play with us. That, of course, is the difference between Puritan Canada, and cosmopolitan Europe. Nobody cares here. Formentara is filled with Germans, Italians, and Spaniards. There are children running free and naked everywhere on the beach, and their parents too. Lovely! So natural. All the children have lovely round heads, with full heads of hair. You never see a crewcut kid. And their eyes are huge and round with wonder and innocence. They seem to come from somewhere else. You rarely hear a child cry here. They are the Crystal generation.
As for Judith, there has been nothing since, so I am not worrying about the porn thing. She sent the books in English and in French to the Professor in Morroco yesterday. I emailed him. I am waiting for his response. I am filled with a sense of certainty and joy like never before. Everything is unfolding as planned, and I am simply watching in wonder.
So, my dears, this is the latest from your correspondent in Barcelona!
Waiting for the next miracle to appear.


Thursday, September 21, 2006

Free at last in Formantera!

I am not sure where I am going next, after I recuperate here in Formantera, but I have started writing, and that is good. It is beautiful here, peaceful, and safe. I have finally written the letter to the Professor I met in Erfoud, asking him to translate A Course in Miracles into Arabic. The Miracle of Gary Renard referring me to Judith Skutch, now Whitson, the publisher of A Course in Miracles, who responded by telling me ,"We have been waiting for you to emerge!" was the most amazing feeling of welcome and recognition, what the Course calls a Holy Instant. The Course community is my path and my future now in a way that is becoming clearer each day. I came to Europe to write, and I am writing!By hand, now, because I have lost my laptop, but it feels clear here. The light is exquisite, and the flow is easy. I am also painting watercolours of the rainbow panapoly of light that I see when I look at the light on the water. It is so relaxed here, and sophisticated. The first night I met a lovely man, a professor from France who has been coming here for forty five years. He has a house and garden here, and comes here to read and garden and relax. He has only one arm, because he lost the other in a tractor accident when he was young. A few months ago he fell on his other hand and broke all his fingers, but he could not let them put a cast on his fingers so they could heal, because then he could have done nothing! So I could not shake his hand, but he did write a letter in French for me, as a cover letter to Marie, who is a friend of the professor in Erfoud. I am praying that he will send me his address so that Judith can send him a copy of the Course, and that he will be willing to overlook its Christian language, and be willing to translate it into Arabic. After all, Helen Shucman never believed the content of the Course which she was asked to transcribe. She was an atheist, but her willingness and obedience to complete the task are why she was given it. She said it was as if she had agreed in some other time and place to accept the assignment. When she asked the Voice,the Voice of Christ, why she was chosen, the answer was, "Because I knew that you would do it!" The instruction was clear: "This is A Course in Miracles. Please take notes." Seven years later there was the 1200 page Text, Workbook, with its 365 lessons, one for each day of the year, and its Manual for Teachers of God. Every morning between seven and nine o'clock in the morning, these two professors of Medical Psychology, both atheistic in belief, transcribed what appears to be the greatest Scripture of the new milennium. After all the misinterpretation and political fanaticism surrounding Christianity, and all the wars fought over the Abrahamic religions, this Scripture shows a way out, a way to peace. It is deceptively simple. The way to peace is through peace. If we want peace, we must reñinquish all thoughts of attack, completely. If attack is not relinquished completely, it is not relingquished at all, and, since we are actually ALL the equal Sons of the same God, the illusion of separation is just that, and therefore  ALL attack is self attack!
Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists.
Herein lies the Peace of God.
I have been carrying that illusion of the loss of innocence since I was nine years old. Here in Europe, with so much time alone to reflect and observe my mind, and study the Course, I am coming to a clarity of purpose that is extraordinary. The flow of miracles is constant, and I am always watching to see what each day will bring and how I will be directed to proceed. It is truly extraordinary in one sense, but extremely ordinary in another, for, as the Course says, "There is no order of difficulty in miracles. Miracles are ordinary. When they are not happening, something has gone wrong." The definition of a miracle, though, is not a spectacle used to inspire belief, as we think of it in the Bible. It is merely a shift in perception, from error to seeing what is real, and nothing that is real, either peace or innocence or truth, can be threatened. It simply IS. You do not have to believe it, or go to Church, or subscribe to it, or be converted to it. The Mind of God, which Einstein said he wanted to discover, and found in e0mc2, "the equation of my youth," the beauty and order of the Universe, the speed of light or infinity, boils down to this equation, which Einstein said was the equation of his age. LOVE=SPACE. Everyt molecule of space, every particle of our being, of the Universe, is carved exquisitely out of LOVE! In the space between the particles, it is LOVE. The love that consumes all, the love of God for his creation. Agape. Whatever you call it, by any other name, a rose is a rose is a rose. Love is not something which can be taught, but the Course simply aims to remove the obstacles to the direct experience of love, which is the only way to know it. This moves you from perception to knowledge, which is infinite in its power and simplicity, and which is the nature of mircles, which heal the mind first, and then the illusion of separation which is at the root of all forms of sickness, including the sick mind, or insanity, or the instanity of war, poverty, and even death. The worship of death as the ultimate solution is insane, and it is the source of the ego mind that is dominating the planet at this moment with its ridiculous beleif that the way to peace is through war. That is a nightmare, a delusion. But once we wake up and realize that the way to peace is to become the peace we seek, we are on the journey home to the Truth of who we are , which we have forgotten, yes, but which is ineradicable from the Mind of God, which we are all a part of, whether we believe or not. The good news in this is that Hell is here on earth, and by shifting our perception of it, through forgiving ourselves for our projections onto the world of fear and guilt and pain and suffering, we become purified, and we can experience Heaven on earth. This is what I am experiencing as I forgive the thefts, and the attachment to the material world that was so upsetting to me. As I let that go, the miracles that flood in, the connection with the publisher of the Course herself, and the writing that is flooding through me, guided by the Voice for God, that is more than anything this world could every offer. I am deeply grateful for this time and this experience. I have followed the Golden thread to the heart of the labyrinth, and defeated the monster of greed, and fear and guilth, and now I experience an abundance of creative possibilities adn miraculous transformation that is infinite.I am in the hands of God, and I am eternally protected and safe. Nothing can happen to me against my will. Nothing has happened. I am home, and I am free. Thank God!
I read a book called The Boy Who Loved Anne Frank about what would have happened if Peter lived. I am realizing I must go there, and to Poland where my mother was born to trace back this feeling of fear and guilt that entered me when I was nine and was attacked in the woods. The idea that I lost my innocence for some reason has haunted me. I am still filled occasionally with the misinterpretation of God's Will for me. I mistakenly think that I am being punished for something mysterious and unknown, but all-pervasive that only God can see. This, of course is completely wrong. The fear of God's Will is one of the strangest and most all pervasive beliefs ever created by mankind. It seems to stem from this idea that God gives life and takes it away, and if we do not live correctly we will be punished ultimately by death, but worse than that, eternal Hell! This is the one misperception core to the fear of God's Will that the Course attempts to correct. In listening to the Voice of God in silence, I am told that I am innocent, and that is the truth that replaces all illusion. Salvation is merely the release of illusion, and the restoration of truth, which is that death is an illusion, we do not die, and God's Will for us is that we heal and experience complete and utter bliss and joy when we recognize that we are loved and protected eternally. God does not punish sinners. Sin is merely a misperception based in fear and guilt, and once that misperception is recognized and forgiven, healing is inevitable. All healing is in the Mind of God, and in that sense, the world is affected by my personal healing. Multitudes of minds are affected by this one simple shift in perception which is the nature of a miracle. The test, of course, is if you can keep your peace WHILE the upset is occurring, and I can assure you, I lost mine! But in the days since I have been examining my mind to see what I actually believe, and I have realized that ever since that unexpected attack when I was a child I have harboured terror at the core of my being where innocence once lay. To restore myself to Childhood innocence has actually been my life's work, and it will be completed with the writing of my book and the healing work that I will do for the rest of my life. As I write, I realize that I am a messenger of God, and He is incomplete without me.

May peace prevail.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

David responds

Very insightful blogs. I love how your travels are spontaneous, where the heart leads you. I've very glad to hear you are coming to know your purpose.

The story of your loss of innocence and how you have played out your life is very interesting. For me, there is the field of action and the field of spirit. They have a close relationship, one is within the other, but the laws of action and reaction are simply a mechanical balancing that takes place. Heres an edited version of a recent post I made:

“Firstly, its important to understand that there are 2 kinds of "seeds" of Samskaras (stored karma/ sins/ stored stress/ life debts - goes by many names) There are seeds unsprouted, that is inactive in our lives. And sprouted or active seeds that are playing out in events and experiences. These seeds, formed in childhood & adolescence are repressed into the hidden recesses of unconscious mind but continue to influence our lives.

So there are 2 types to take care of.

Firstly, you need a practice that brings you in touch with your core being. This may be prayer, chanting, meditation or something similar that brings you that experience of Self/ God/ light and bliss /peace. This is the most important practice as its one that will bring us "home", to true fulfillment. As a side benefit, it "burns" the unsprouted seeds, (forgives our sins) eliminating the future obligations. It also gives us much greater awareness, clarity and acceptance.

The practice you choose is up to you. Each of us has our own path to truth. I consider meditation to be the highest, most direct path but that is for me. Find what resonates with you. Many in the group have good experiences with other practices.

The second part of this is taking care of the sprouted stuff, the tapes and baggage that are active in our lives. The key here becomes awareness and being present. Then we move those dynamics from the sub-conscious automatic zombie like behavior where we seemed doomed to repeat them, to being aware of whats happening and beginning to choose different responses and resolve those inner dynamics. We can reprogram, erase the tapes, and break out of the loops. Like the Photographer did in Bleep. Awareness or consciousness is the source and key to everything.

This second part can be some of our biggest challenges as it requires a self-honesty and clarity that shines through decades (or lifetimes) of ingrained understanding about ourselves. Much of what we think is wrong. Trying to control, decide right and wrong, judge, its all based on a misunderstanding of our relationship with the universe. Those behaviors are natural and normal for the mind and ego, but if we identify with them, consider them "us", then we loose the truth. With awareness and resolution of some old garbage, we gradually come to a series of new understandings and our relationship to self changes. We still judge, get angry, and all that but we change our relationship with that. Instead of being victims to our experiences, we become observers. Rather than being scarred, experiences flow over us like wind and water. We stop leaving a trail of future obligations to be resolved later, like a bad debt. “

From my perspective, you've become aware of this "sin", this bit of karma playing out in your life in a loop, affecting many decisions and responses that followed. It may have been when you took on your lifes load, hence the loss of innocence. You came to identify with the experience. So its also important to understand the REASON you responded that way in the first place - why would someone attack you like that and why would you feel guilt, and so forth. And the reason is because some past actions (sins, whatever) came around in your life for resolution. And now you are resolving them. Without that, the cycle would continue, on into distant futures.

So those old sins have nothing to do with God - they are simply about your actions in the past coming around for resolution. Thats the local/ per action view. There is also the more global view, the view where God is a part of this. The perspective where God is not in the individual actions but does give a guidance, a direction to our lives. No matter how we stray from the correct path, we're still guided to that destiny. Would you for example have connected with Judith if you had not taken a self-review approach for your travels? And would that have happened if you had not had that childhood experience? I've had a couple of times in my life where I saw that perspective, where all the negative things that seemed to be happening where spun off of a single comment from a teacher far away, but it guided my life through others for a number of years. It would have been easier if I hadn't been fighting it.

And remember that the boys karma was his alone. You were merely the catalyst as he was for you. If he had been jailed for his actions, it was because of what he did and his HISTORY. What he had done before. Not because you promised him $. (actually that was a good idea - I never thought of that.)

Hope that helps with your perspective.

Understanding that the great ideas and insights one has are not of your mind but the universal mind, one begins to understand how we are a messenger of God. It is not us doing, it is the play of Nature. Understanding that correctly changes the attitude and that changes the results. Even more significantly, it opens the flow much wider.

Its also important to understand a bit about time. Time is an illusion created in the mind. But as we live in that mind-space, we must deal with things in time, in their own time, and at the right time.

I don't think your blog has changed direction. It was always about your journey - in and out. Thats why its so good. But then , thats your life, isn't it (laughs)

So in your healing, just remember nothing that happened before was a mistake - by you or by God. It was all to lead up to this point in your life so the discoveries would be there and so you can teach. You can't teach what you do not know.

And remember, you don't have a guardian angel. You have a host. Tons. From the personalized view of the world, everything is done by a deva. The leaf falling from the tree, the growing grass, the cars engine, the clouds. The world is packed with spirits. And those assigned to help us grow as we grow, attracted by our touching spirit. We can do it in a way angels can't, which makes human life precious. Contact with Spirit produces soma, the nectar of the gods. So you have a host running about arranging things for you. There is nothing to worry about.

May blessings continue to rain upon you, angel

Dear Lisa

Dear Lisa
Being robbed twice in one week was an important lesson for me. Here in Ibiza following an intense process that ended with my getting a replacement Visa card and some emergency cash, showed me how incredibly blessed I am. Poverty for me is a temporary situation, not a way of life that makes thievery necessary.

I am not sure where I am going next, after I recuperate here in Ibiza, but I have started writing, and that is good. I read a book called The Boy Who Loved Anne Frank about what would have happened if Peter lived. I am realizing I must go there, and to Poland where my mother was born to trace back this feeling of fear and guilt that entered me when I was nine and was attacked in the woods. The idea that I lost my innocence for some reason has haunted me. I am still filled occasionally with the misinterpretation of God's Will for me. I mistakenly think that I am being punished for something mysterious and unknown, but all-pervasive that only God can see. This, of course is completely wrong. The fear of God's Will is one of the strangest and most all pervasive beliefs ever created by mankind. It seems to stem from this idea that God gives life and takes it away, and if we do not live correctly we will be punished ultimately by death, but worse than that, eternal Hell! This is the one misperception core to the fear of God's Will that the Course attempts to correct. In listening to the Voice of God in silence, I am told that I am innocent, and that is the truth that replaces all illusion. Salvation is merely the release of illusion, and the restoration of truth, which is that death is an illusion, we do not die, and God's Will for us is that we heal and experience complete and utter bliss and joy when we recognize that we are loved and protected eternally. God does not punish sinners. Sin is merely a misperception based in fear and guilt, and once that misperception is recognized and forgiven, healing is inevitable. All healing is in the Mind of God, and in that sense, the world is affected by my personal healing. Multitudes of minds are affected by this one simple shift in perception which is the nature of a miracle. The test, of course, is if you can keep your peace WHILE the upset is occurring, and I can assure you, I lost mine! But in the days since I have been examining my mind to see what I actually believe, and I have realized that ever since that unexpected attack when I was a child I have harboured terror at the core of my being where innocence once lay. To restore myself to Childhood innocence has actually been my life's work, and it will be completed with the writing of my book and the healing work that I will do for the rest of my life. As I write, I realize that I am a messenger of God, and He is incomplete without me.

I have so much appreciated your comments on my blog, and knowing you are reading it has made a great difference. You write beautifully, and YES, when you write you are divinely inspired. I am learning to detect the subtle difference between the voice of the ego, and the Voice for God. Get David Paul and Candace's book, The Journey Without Distance, How to Hear the Voice of the Holy Spirit Regardless of Your Religion. Do the exercises. Take one of their on-line workshops. They are brilliant teachers and their work is making a huge difference on the planet. I consider them, Gary Renard, Dennis Gaither, Jon Mundy, among the greatest teachers on the planet. And I will be joining with Judith Skutch, and Kenneth Wapnick to study more deeply so that I can be an even more effective teacher of the Course, in ACTION, as Dennis says in his forgiveness process.

My blog is taking a turn in a different direction. It is no longer just a story of a journey, but now a story of a journey home to Truth. The healing on this journey is one of the belief that giving is a way to lose, that by giving money or having it taken, it establishes guilt. I am forgiving myself for being afraid of God, and fearing that I deserved to be punished by being robbed of my money which was a symbol of my guilt. A child has no need of money, yet it was money that I promised to the boy who terrified me by attempting to steal my innocence. And when I saw him in handcuffs, I felt ENORMOUS guilt. I had sent him to jail! I had promised nothing would happen to him if he let me go, and he was going to jail because of ME! Now I understand the pattern of attack that has followed me all my life. And, as the Course says, unless all attack is relinquished, it is not relinquished at all. And ALL attack is SELF attack. Definition of guilt? Self-attack. Seemingly simple, isn't it? But once this profound truth, that the world is merely a reflection of what I have projected on it, and I am not a victim of what I THINK I SEE, then the way out becomes clear. Release the projection, reclaim your innocence through forgiving yourself for believing that by punishing. "Forgive them for they know not what they do?" Forgive yourself, for there is nothing to forgive! I asked God this morning the real meaning of giving and receiving, and His answer was simple. To give is to give LOVE, and to receive is to receive LOVE. The exchange of money for goods is the world's understanding of giving and receiving, which is why we think giving is the way to loss, and that to protect ourselves we must hold tightly to our purse strings. In fact, the tighter I held, the more skillfully I was robbed! The illusion that money is real was burst like a bubble in that moment in which I discovered that she had skillfully tricked me out of my so-called treasure. The REAL treasure came the next day when Judith told me that they had been waiting for me to emerge. Now I know that I am truly being guided, and the lessons of forgiveness that I am learning are invaluable, priceless, and the lesson IS finally being learned. Today I gave to a beggar, without resentment. I no longer see myself as a guilty, deceptive beggar and thief. I no longer feel guilty and responsible for the pain of all the world's poor, as I did for that poor boy who mistakenly thought the way to achieve manhood was to steal it from a child's body. I had the wisdom and the courage to forgive him then, and now I am finally reaping the reward for that act of kindness that my parents condoned, allowing him to go free if he promised he would never do it again. I am sure he never did. It was a mistake. And it is healed, finally, in a Holy instant, for "my Holiness envelops all I see."


Monday, September 18, 2006

Comment from Lisa

why is the divorce rate 80%? is it they "harvest" a woman's virginity and then leave her "corpse" for the vulchers??

how brutal this image is but I can't help but feel the pain of this statistic

My gosh Shelora
Your trip to the desert sounded so peaceful and sensual with the way you and your guide connected...

Maybe this opened up your flow
allowing your own juices to flow in the
parched desert

My flow is happening now, like a small babbly brook reminding me of a feeble vein of life within

I am angry and shocked today. One of my "bosom buddies" from the west coast has been rediagnosed with breast cancer again...How I wish I could find the sword to slay this dragon.


May peace prevail.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Healing the misperception of guilt.

I sure needed that forgiveness process! Thanks Dennis!
But the real miracle is that Gary Renard has put me in touch with Judith Skutch, the publisher of ACourse in Miracles, and she tells me that "they have been waiting for me!" This in connection with my vision of having the Course translated into Arabic by my friend Hussein in Erfoud.

It seems I will go and study with Kenneth Wapnick. And I will write, and speak, and teach like Gary, and Candace and David Paul Doyle, and Jon Mundy. I am joining with the Course in Miracles community of teachers. I am truly blessed.

So, finally, by following the golden thread to the heart of the labyrinth, and wrestling with the Minataur, the Face of Evil, the Demon of Guilt and Fear, and finding the way out back into the sunlight through the assistance of Love, I have found my life's mission.

And that is actually what I came on this pilgrimage to do.

I am gaining clarity in this deep process of forgiveness and healing that I am undergoing here. Once I have actually healed my mind of this crazy idea that I am guilty because I was terrified when I was attacked as a child, then I can heal others who are suffering the same misperception. My mission of creating world peace begins with me. I can only be upset and angry with a theif if I believe I am one! And I am not. I am rich and abundant with God's gifts, but they are freely given. I did not and cannot steal them. They are my natural inheritance.

What better place to learn this lesson that the things of the world are meaningless, than here in Ibiza where all Europe comes to party, and I am holed up in a clean little room with the shower across the hall for 21 Euros a night!

After all, poverty for me is a temporary thing. While for the theif, it is a way of life that apparently requires deception in order to survive. I must have believed that I was a theif, and had to steal to survive. I release that belief now, and accept that all giving and receiving is the giving and receiving of love, agape, the love that consumes all grief and terror and longing.

I welcome the love of God, which is my true and eternal protection, and the treasure beyond measure. It suffices more than any dream of wealth this world offers. "To spirit, giving is all and getting is nothing." I think I am beginning to understand that statement for the first time in my life.

Relinquishing attack

Now in Ibiza, I have spent the last couple of days a self imposed prison, a tiny room for 21 euros, a shower across the hall, and bathroom in the next room. Clean, but like a nun's cell. I have been reading, writing, and trying to sort out WHY in God's name I have been robbed twice in two days. I thought I had published the account of the cobra gypsy woman in the cafe across from my hostal, but apparently not. I will take it from the email I sent my brother. But the real lesson is in the core belief that has been attracting attack all my life ever since I was a little girl and a teenage boy came out from behind the bushes where he had been stalking me. In that moment of attack, I  defended myself by promising him money if he let me go, which he did. But they caught him and took him to jail anyhow. When I saw him standing there, a policeman on either side, I started shaking with guilt and terror that he was being punished and I had not kept my promise to give him money. I had lied and told him my father was very rich! Ever since I have felt somehow responsible for the poor, and guilty of having more than they do. I have fought over money, the root cause of my divorce, and I have thought I had to protect myself and the survival of my children by doing so. I have fought for my inheritance, which I lost to my sister. All of this fighting over money I now trace to this one incident in my childhood when I thought my innocence was robbed. This makes me vulnerable to attack, and let me tell you, Gypsies can smell it, they work you over with your own guilt for having more than they apparently do! As she circled me like a cobra, first threatening to take my beer, while stealthily taking my photo wallet out of my purse and then handing it to me and asking for money in return, she was like a snake closing in for the kill, a consumate actress, she kept up her cry for money "por los ninos" for te children, while distracting me, and pressing me into giving her some change, and then when it was not enough, asking for MORE! She did the darting across the table from behind thing TWICE; heading for the beer, while actually having seen my wallet, she knew where to pounce, and having created a distraction which ended with me yelling that I would call the police, she left, I am sure feeling justified in her theft, since I had given her so little! What a guilt manipulator, and what an easy prey I was, sitting there with my purse clutched to my chest, thinking I had protected myself! Ironically, the closer to the chest I held my purse, the more vulnerable I became, because she had me feeling like a guilty victim because I did not give her enough! What a lesson! And now I am told I must forgive myself for thinking that I could be robbed of my innocence and my faith in God so easily. If I want peace I must give up attack, entirely, and ALL attack is self attack, or, in a word, GUILT! That feeling of fear and guilt must be relinquished entirely, or it is not relinquished at all. I cannot control what happens around me, but I can control how I interpret it. The cause of the upset was not the gypsy, but the guilt I have been carrying all these years, because the child I was thought I had sent a teenage boy to jail because of a lie. Now I realize that misperception of guilt has been projected onto all the poor of the world who believe that they have to steal or kill to get what they deserve, which is abundantly theirs by the grace of God, and need not be fought for or over. This is easier said than done, however, and I am learning the most important lesson of my life here in Spain. I am on a journey towards the center of the labyrinth. I am wrestling with the Minitaur, the Face of Evil, the Demon of Guilt and Shame and Terror that holds the world in it sway. The Course in Miracles tells me that if I can wholly release this thought, forgive it, and heal it, once and for all, a thousand will heal with me at the same time. The Curriculum is Universal. It is not up to me whether I take it, it is only  a matter of when. As I write this, there is still fear in the pit of my stomach. This confusion is still there, between being punished by God, for something I did or did not do, this sense of having my life, my freedom, my innocence,  taken away from me for no reason, and my innocence which is my birthright, my freedom to create which is eternally mine, this gift from God, which is life eternal, and not being worthy of it. I am breaking free of this ego driven torment that I believe has caused me to create dramas of theft of innocence all my life. Attack must be relingquished entirely, or it is not relinquished at all!
May peace prevail.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

The Cobra Srikes Again

You would not BELIEVE what happened last night! I spent the day shopping for the first time since I got here, since the weather had changed and I had sent stuff home and lightened up. Nature abhors a vacuum and all that.
At the end of the day, I sat down to have a Spanish supper, and ordered a BEER. As soon as it arrived along with it arrived a Romanian Gypsy beggar. She invaded my space, asked for money in Spanish, reached across and tried to get a sip of my beer. Then she reached down and picked up my small zippered case with my photo memory cards in it and handed it to me, and asked for money in return! I was flabbergasted! How had itotten out of my purse? I grabbed my purse and clutched it close to my chest, but she would not go away. She circled me like a cobra, while a group of English tourists watched. She left, then came back and asked for money. To get rid of her, gave her a small amount of change. She was not satisfied, and asked for MORE, then she did the swooping in for the beer move again.By this time I was yelling for her to go away, or I would call the police! She left, after another round of "por los ninos." I ate my spaghetti, and went to pay, and discovered, yup, you got it. My WALLET was gone. While she had reached over to get my beer, she had gotten the wallet out of the purse with the other hand. Sleight of hand par extraordinaire. I mean they are PROFESSIONALS! I have never seen anything like it. And everyone was wataching the show! Nobody did anything, they were mesmerized by her, and it is distasteful to watch.
This timeI completely lost it. I stood up and yelled I HATE this fucking country! Twice in five days. So there I was in the police station again, filling out forms. A woman in the street allowed me to use her phone to phone Canada, and I cancelled my cards immediately. It has taken no less than sixteen separate phone calls to at least seven different phone numbers since then, including Panama, Baltimore Maryland, Vancouver, Toronto and Montreal, not to mention Barcelona and Valencia Visa. Yikes! But I found a wonderful Dutch lawyer who spoke fluent French and had just bought a huge amount of land to develop into a community designed for seniors and youth combined. Architecht designed, no less. He walked the streets of Valencia at the hottest time and eventually we found the Western Union where emergency had been sent by Visa.
Tomorrow I will get my replacement card, thanks to the travel agent who let me use her phone for long distance free for hours! Tomorrow, hopefully I will be on the ferry to Ibiza.
What is going on here, do you think? I have spent a great deal of time contemplating the meaning of all this drama and trickery. What is the Universe trying to tell me?
Meanwhile I am reading a fascinating book called The Man Who Loved Anne Frank. From thepoint of view of Peter as if he had survived and kept his vow not to admit he was Jewish or ever tell anyone who he was. All right until he sees Anne's face staring at him from the book cover, in America where he is now marrried. Anyhow, this has set me to thinking I must make a trip to Konskovolia a part of my pilgrimage. Any info you have on that would be much appreciated. I will return to Barcelona and perhaps set out on El Camino, and do part of it, then go to Poland and Germany and France.

May peace prevail.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

A Forgiveness Process from Dennis Gaither to You

When you are feeling upset, first, pause and take a breath. Take 3 – 4 slow, full breaths and make a soft "Ahhhhhhhhhh" sound as you exhale.
Let yourself be mindful of any thoughts, feelings, and body sensations you may be having.
Remember, "I am never upset for the reason I think". Are there any meanings or interpretations based on the past that are causing you to react in this way that you are aware of now? Any familiar patterns? Just allow yourself to be aware of the patterns and feelings without judgment. Be patient with yourself. This takes practice.
Recite this prayer: (Or something similar.) The important thing is the willingness, not the words. Allow in the feeling of willingness or openness. Make it an offering from the heart. It may help to personalize it by beginning with something like "Dear Holy Spirit" (or Mother/Father God, Jesus, Higher Power, Allah, or whatever is meaningful to you).
I am willing to let this problem of, (name the problem), go.
I am willing to let my way of seeing it go.
I am willing to see it differently.
I am willing to see it in YOUR way, as YOU see it, with LOVE.
Then take a moment of silence as you offer your perception of the problem up to your Higher Power. Offer it as you would a precious gift given to someone you love. In your mind see and feel yourself doing this. Then-
I am willing to let YOU heal my mind.
I am willing to receive YOUR meaning now.
Then wait in silence. Open your heart to receive a miracle. It may come as a feeling, a thought, words, an image, a new memory, music or in many other ways. It may not come in that moment, but trust that it will at some time in some way. Be open to receive it.
Then intentionally put the new perception into some kind of interpersonal action that reflects your new way of seeing the situation. This can take many forms. Examples might include: an act of kindness, an acknowledgment or apology or perhaps a forgiveness ritual. Let your Inner Wisdom guide you in this. This will strengthen and solidify your new perception and understanding.

Epiphany! A Forgiveness Lesson in Valenica

I was in an internet cafe in Madrid and for the FIRST time since I have been in Europe I took out my laptop and took it to an internet cafe. A man saw it and waited all day until I was working at an internet station in the cafe with the case on the floor beside my foot. My foot was TOUCHING IT! When I realized it was gone I asked them to call the police. They refused. So I went out into the street where I found a traffic cop who came with me, and a lovely man who was a professor of business. He spoke English. We went back to the internet cafe, and while we were standign there waiting for the police the man who had eyed my computer came into the cafe and stood in front of me pretending to look at a bulletin board. I recognized him from the morning when he had looked at my computer with greedy eyes. Immediately that he realized I recognized him he darted out of the cafe towards the elevator and jumped into it and went UP! I told my professor friend that it was him and we went downstairs to watch to see that the man did not come downstairs and leave. The policemen arrived and I told them he was IN THE BUILDING! They said, "NO, he has left!" And there I was, with FOUR policemen, none of whom spoke English, and one Business professor, and no one could catch him or even believed me or understood what was happening. So I lost all my pictures from my incredible trip, and all that I have written, and all the pictures of you and I and all the pictures from the last three years. I was going to back it up that night. SHIT! But there was a reason. The next day, after filing the police report, and calling Canada to file a report with my insurance, I came to Valencia, where, I thought I would be able to go to the beach and recuperate, because you really need to heal after a theft. It is like a form of rape of your indentity, and the girl in the hotel suggested I go to the beach where it  is calm and peaceful.
On the first day in Valencia, I could not find the beach, but I went looking around and tried to find the Teatro Principal, since that is what fascinates me. I had a map, and I was trying to find the theatre, which was supposed to be off the main square, but there were so many streets radiating off teh main square, and I could not find the correct street. I took one street that looked right, but thenI stopped in dismay, realizing I was lost, when suddenly I noticed in front of me, on the corner of the street a small curved white feather swirling in a circle about four feet in diameter. It went around and around, until it was sure it had my attention. Then it began to spiral upwards, until it disappeared, or so I thought, into the blazing sunshine. I watched, and sure enough, it emerged from the glare of the sun and moved to the left, as if guiding me to follow it. So I did. I went back up to the square where I had made the wrong choice, and followed it to...the theatre. Beside the theatre was the tourist information where I saw there was a theatrical presentation of the history of medieval Vallencia that night, so I got a reservation and decided to go to see a Cathedral that was nearby. As soon as I entered the Cathedral a young man named Victor accosted me and told me that Dan Brown who wrote the Da Vinci Code was a liar, and the REAL Holy Grail, the cup that Jesus drank from when he was blessing his disciples at the Last Supper, WAS THERE IN THAT CHURCH!!!  I scoffed at him, and he said I should go and do the audio tour, and afterwards he would bring me the brochure in English that explained it. And there it was, in a chapel above the alter, the cup that Jesus drank from, made from agate, polished in Syria or Egypt in the first century, brought to Rome by St. Paul, and used in remembrance of Christ for centuries, hidden, and then passed on. So that was the miracle, but the REAL miracle was the blessing that I saw in a painting in the Cathedral of Valenica. There was a painting of Christ with the THEIF on the cross, and I remembered that Christ forgave him, and told he that today he would be in Paradise with him, and so, answering the question, "What would love do now?" I forgave myself for my anger at the theif, and expressed gratitude for the blessing of seeing what might actually be the Holy Grail. (Althought the Spaniards do not believe it, even though the Pope did!)
I realized that at some very deep level I have been projecting onto the world that I am in some sense a thief, that I do not deserve what I have, and the freedom to do what I am doing, and what I have, my abundance, my life, because in some way I have not truly earned it, and therefore I must be guilty, and deserve to be punished. Ergo, I created a thief to rob me, so I could express the rage and guilt that I feel towards myself onto the thief, and desire him to be punished as I think I deserve to be.
And so, remembering what Christ did, and realizing that we are all one, that Christ is not special, merely a brother, an innocent Child of God, like myself, and realizing that God is nothing more or less than agape, or the Love that consumes and forgives and blesses al with compassion, I  forgave myself for believing that crock of guilty nonsense that I have been carrying around like so much extra uneeded baggage. I decluttered myself of that erroneous thought, and returned to simplicity and peace, here in Valencia. Someone who is carrying past pain and negativity cannot be simple. And cannot receive love. There is no room. Too much baggage. And, my God, it costs a lot of money to send baggage home where it belongs!
As the Course in MIracles says, "The only thing about the past that you can be certain of is, it is not here!"
So that is story of my the learning on my pilgrimage for today!

May peace prevail.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Magnificent Madrid

Well, after about seven days of horrendous communication difficulties, combined with fear of some parasitic disease punishing me for my brilliant time in Morocco, I finally succeeded in getting my ticket changed,. I had to pay for it (using air miles, of course) because they just didn't buy my staying here until the end of October because I was sick. They were willing to go to the end of September, but the last flight home is the end of October. Quite frankly I am not at this point sure why I bought the extra time, but I did, and now I am in Madrid.
Granada was the last place I surfaced, and posted to my blog. Granada's sweetness and combination of Muslim and Christian cultures suited me to a "t". O spent a luscious week there, visiting L'Alhanbra every day, and finishing with a visit to the summer home of Garcia Lorca. I read his "Letters on Duende" (the demon of inspiration which separates the great artist from the mediocre) on the bus as I came to Madrid.

Once I arrived here, I sunk into a funk. The energy here is dense, intense, filled with money and power and grandiosity. Everything is overstated and excessively ornate, almost self consciously comparing itself to Paris, London, New York. It took some getting used to after the simple beauty of Granada, which is a city of only 250,000. Madrid is more like 3 or 4 million. I hid out from the complications of learning yet another Metro system and finding out what I absolutely had to see, in a tiny hotel room in the centre of the city.

Never a moments silence; after the liquid subterranean lush green beauty of Granada; it took me a couple of days to adjust to the more rapid rythyms of Madrid and get the hang of it. But once I had taken the tourist bus to get an overview, I got off in front of El Prado, and went to the only Museum in Madrid open on Monday, La Rena Sofia where I saw a wonderful Picasso exhibit centred around the 25th anniversary of the return of Guernica from MOMA to Madrid. A stunning collection of all the firing squads, faceless on the right, aiming at the heroic victims of whatever war it was, The second of May against Napoleon merged with the German attack on Guernica, it really was powerful.combined with works from El Prado that inspired Picasso, Manet, Velasquez, Goya, all the firiface-to -ace with Guernica, the most powerful anti-war statement of the twentieth century.
I think I actually began to understand the exaggeration and extreme distortion of the lines Picasso uses in Guernica. It is like a silent scream, jagged in its intensity. But one last symbol of hope, a flower clutched in the hand of the dead soldier, disappeared after the second world war in his later works. I bought a book by one of his many wives and mistresses, Francoise Gilot, and found it interesting to read what was going on in his life during that ten year period and her understanding of the man who, in many ways reminds me of the tyrant that is my uncle.
I have visited El Prado, of course, and the Royal Palace, etc. But the piece de resistance was last night. I got dressed to the nines in my long black dress, and took myself out on a date to the Teatro Royal where, from a front row seat in the second balcony I saw the most gorgeous Russian version of Le Corsair with the Kirov ballet! What a treat! It felt like I was a little girl again being taken to see the ballet with mom. I found myself sitting in the same seat that she occupied for nearly thirty years at Massey Hall. She left an unconsious legacy for which I am deeply grateful.

I will never forget her dressing in her black dress with the lace insert and her Sealskin fur coat, smelling of perfume, her red lipstick and black hair upswept as she came in to kiss us good night before she and dad went off to the theatre or the symphony, where she brought home autographs for me of famous musicians or actors. Dad had friends from the mysterious past in vaudeville who sometimes came to visit. He shared memories of seeing Pavlova dance, or dining with the entire Sadler´s Wells ballet company in New York.

Then there were the special nights when we were dressed in satin and allowed to come along into that glamourous world. I especially recall when we were allowed to go into the lighting booth at the Roual Alexander Theatre and survey the stage through lighting gels, courtesy of the manager of the theatre, also a personal friend of dad's or go back stage and visit with the Prima ballerinas, Moria Shearer, with her brilliant red hair being cut by Robert Helpman and dropping in shanks onto the white floor.

And then those terribly British, terribly gay men, and elegant women would appear at our house for supper! One moment I was in a movie theatre watching them on the screen in The Red Shoes or Tales of Hoffman, and the next the stars of the movie were discussing the scarcity of meat in London after the war, and dad was agreeing to send them meat or driving them to Niagara Falls.

To a romantic dreamer like me, it all seemed like a movie, and it was my life! What a privileged childhood we had, and how the echoes of it still linger in moments like last night at the Kirov Ballet, which I had never seen.
True to our Fitzgerald7Shugaar roots, I headed downstairs through elegant seventeenth century rooms, past portraits of Kings and Queens and finaly backstage where three other people waited. As soon as I arrived I was told that we could only see Ulanova. Fine with me! We were escorted to her dressing room where the lovely ballerina, (can´t remember her last name in Russian) welcomed me into her dressing room alone! I told her about how Margot was a frequent house guest when I was a little girl and truthfully admitted I had not been so inspired by a ballerina since Fonteyn! How gracious and ethereally lovely she was. Her arms went on forever, flowing like water in a silent fountain. Her bows were deeply humble and included everyone equally. Such naked intimacy behind the mask of such rigid formality. No lie, she was incredible.
Naturally, I got her autograph, but I had left the battery to my camera charging in my tiny little hotel room, so I did not get a picture of us together, her exquisitely made-up face like a mask that only came to life under the intense lights. They got the flowers all wrong. The colours of the set and the costumes were the pinks and torquoises of Matisse, yet they gave her yellow sunflowers!!!

I forgot my camera battery, because at the moment I needed to leave for the theatre, (where I had lined up for an hour and half along with a large group of Intrernational Baccalaureate students and dance students waiting for last minute tickets, a sight you would never see in Canada, I can tell you!) I heard a thunderstorm break out! I got flustered and rushed out of my room, late as usual. LIghtning and a downpour and not a taxi in sight! But a man on the corner was selling umbrellas, so I bought one and headed for the Metro. What a gas to take the Metro to "Opera," dressed to the nines in my long black gown.

Afterwards I took myself out to the theatre restaurant and bought myself a lovely dessert and watched the rich Spaniards and their stolid wives dine out in splendour. The restaurant was incredibly dramatic, with a canopy of stars placed exactly as they were on the night of the opening of the restaurant, and all the waiters in white gloves! Just my style. But still alone, I am afraid.

I have not yet returned to Barcelona where my things are waiting for me to sort out and send home. OK, OK, you were right. I took FAR too much. But it was worth it for last night alone. I will divest myself of even more and set off on El Camino de Compostella (which means Field of Stars.) After Morocco I feel I can handle anything.
I will begin to seriously look into the possiblity of work here soon.
I am deeply connected to my inner dialogue here, as I imagine happens for anyone when you are absent from your own language and from anyone to talk to except yourself. I read and value literature more, and I experience things very intensely.

In some sense, the purpose of my trip is already accomplished. I feel very much at peace, and am enjoying a serenity that has eluded me for years. I am walking my pilgrimage every day, closer and closer to God. I am deeply grateful for the inheritance we did receive from Mom, however small, because it has enabled me to make this trip. But I want to continue living like this. I crave, and I do mean CRAVE a place like Lorca's, where it is simple, beautiful, and quiet, in nature, near water, and light, where I can write.
It is very hot and still in Madrid, but not for much longer. I can feel the change in the air. The thunderstorm last night was the first inkling that there is anything in the world except constant one hundred degree weather and blue skies! I wish that I could just find a place to set up and stay for a few months here! It suits my tempermant, being a summer born child, I think.
I remember you saying once that I should spend the last part of my life as an ex-patriate in an artistic community. You were pretty close to it, because now I am looking for my kindred spirits here.
My time alone has honed my senses and I am ready for companionship of a deeper nature, like that I had for a brief moment with "the professor" in Erfoud. I feel I still have something to say, and am being protected in some sacred way as a messenger of a deep and inspiring peace and joy that I have found in my life. I can honestly say that I have beheld the face of Christ, and that is not something that everyone can say. I feel blessed by and grateful for every moment of my life, no matter how much suffering and illusion I had to see through in order to get here. I feel abundantly blessed and I owe it all to the presence of the Voice of God in my life. I am walking on toward God.