Doing those Mind Games together,
Some call it Magick, the Search for the Grail.
We’re playing those Mind Games forever,
Projecting our images in Space and Time...
John Lennon.1
Though outwardly my life had not appeared to have changed very much I found myself drawn towards an unseen world. The spirit of something as yet unborn had entered my life. Was it the voice of William Blake that had spoken to me one night when I was in a meditative state of mind saying, “And ye shall yet be as gods walking upon the face of this Earth”?
Feeling rather like an overcharged battery I found it difficult to sleep during that time. One night I found myself copying out some of Blake’s poems in my neatest hand:
"England! Awake! Awake! Awake!
Jerusalem thy sister calls!
Why wilt thou sleep
The sleep of death
And close her from thy ancient walls?
Thy hills and valleys felt her feet,
Gently upon their bosoms move:
Thy gates beheld sweet Zion’s ways;
Then was a time of joy and love.
And now the time returns again..."2
Blake is thought to have been a senior Druid and to have spent a lot of time in Glastonbury during his youth. If it were true he would have been an initiate of the mystery schools giving him possession of the esoteric keys of knowledge to the ancient secrets of Albion’s old megaliths, stone circles and star temples.
To me it was a whole new world. Yet, without knowing anything of these mysteries it seemed I had been provided with a glimpse of the Otherworld through the Astral energies surrounding Glastonbury and the old Kingdom of Wessex of which Wallingford was once part.
Too often I had allowed myself to be put down as an idealist, a romantic and a utopian. More often than not I had allowed myself to believe it. What I was going through now seemed impossibly quixotic. But it didn’t matter. I was alone in a strange new world which was unfolding before me. And deep down I knew it was right to go on with the search.
I thought of Bertie Lomas, my lecturer-friend at College, who had so inspired me to believe in the power of feeling, thought and imagery in poetry.
“Poets are warriors of the future,” I could hear him say. “Their thoughts can be amazingly subversive!” It was he who had taught us Blake’s poetry and who introduced me to the idea of a new age called Aquarius.
Now as I read the works of Blake, the early Aquarian dream-warrior, I began to understand more fully the prophetic quality of his thought and vision. The future that Blake had foreseen during the early days of the world’s industrial revolution was only now beginning to unfold. The change was coming about through a deep evolutionary process whose dancing currents seemed to enter the human, terrestrial world from the other end of the universe. And the seed of change lay within us. Dormant perhaps during humanity’s dark night but waiting for the waters of Aquarius whose flow would release and transform our species.
I began to wonder if the disturbing changes I had been experiencing were somehow part of the process of entering that world; of dying to the old and being born into the new, a sequel to the game of consciousness I had glimpsed from farther afield thirteen years before?
For me the changes seemed to have accelerated after the break-down of my marriage. Fate had thrown the dice anew and I had been shaken out of my complacency. Everything had fallen apart; within the microcosm of my personal life and in the macrocosm of a civilization which appeared to be in terminal crisis. If I were to survive I had to seek my healing outside the chaos. And so I turned to the deep spaces within to listen to the silence.
And in that silence I had begun to perceive that my own subjective experiences, consciousness, evolution, the-world-in-here-and-out-there, God, were all part of one greater whole, all part of a vast adventure of discovery that God was playing. It was one thing to accept the idea in theory but quite another to see it unfold each day.
“Don’t turn back now,” an inner voice seemed to say. “Keep listening because there’s far more to be revealed!”
The old world was breaking down and out of its destruction there appeared the promise of the new. But, first, it was to be born within each of us. We were to become our own guides into the future, poets, seers, healers, architects of the unknown.
I had been told that 23 November 1984 was Sai Baba’s 59th Birthday. And Arthur Garside, the spirit-channel, was expected from the Continent. Barbara had lent me a book of channellings entitled I Am the Divine Light, given to him in 1978. Apparently Arthur had been informed later by a Sai devotee that the source of these channellings was Sathya Sai Baba.3
My car was off the road that day so I caught the bus into Oxford. On the way there I began to read the book. And as I read I felt an inner illumination begin to fill me. I had to meet Arthur.
Returning home that evening I finished the book and settled into the front seat of the double-decker bus on which I travelled. We approached a military airfield just outside Wallingford. During my time in the local Peace Group we had picketed the camp by erecting an information-stall on its perimeter in order to publicize the effects of a nuclear strike on such an airfield. CND Scientists for Peace had run a computer program in which it had been established that this particular establishment could expect to be hit by two 1.5 Megaton Soviet SS-20 missiles in a nuclear attack.
As the bus passed the western perimeter of the airbase I sensed a build-up of energy within me. The metal body of the vehicle felt as if it were becoming white hot — just as had happened to my car the month before. As the energy increased I understood that in some way I was being used as a channel or conduit and that the best thing I could do was to let it flow through me without resistance.
I began to see with my mind’s eye translucent red and green bubbles the size of large party balloons begin to form outside the bus. They were falling gently from the sky in the fields outside. It was as if a great cosmic washing machine was frothing over! I relaxed and opened myself further to the experience. The bubbles were filling the inside of the bus. I looked around surreptitiously to see if anyone else might have noticed. Of course they hadn’t.
By now the bubbles were falling everywhere and the entire countryside around the airbase was full of them. As they landed and burst tiny circles of ethereal silver appeared to sounds of Zing! and Whee! in an electric dance of sheer uninhibited delight. I felt like a child on bonfire night. But what on Earth was happening?
I got to the bus-stop and alighted. The energy seemed to have resided somewhat and I began to trudge the quarter-mile back home. I looked up at the sky. It was about five o’clock and in the glow of a chilly autumn sky I noticed that the first evening stars had begun to show. One particular star it seemed shone brighter than the rest. I walked on.
Again I stopped to study the darkening sky. The star that shone so brilliantly appeared almost unreal as if it were not a star at all. Could it be Altair or Vega so early in the evening? I wondered. Or Jupiter? As I stood gazing at the star a stream of quick-silver energy seemed to emanate from it and shot towards the centre of my forehead and the third eye. I felt the energy travel down my spinal cord and through my feet into the Earth below. I stood there rooted to the ground as the celestial electricity flowed down my body to fuse momentarily with the Planet’s surface.
The star lay in conjunction to another at roughly azimuth 70 degrees from the horizon. Was this strange light connected in some way to the bubbles I had just experienced dancing inside the bus and on the runways of the military airbase? Had this been some kind of cosmic blessing of a place of war? I was quite sure that though I seemed to have been used as an instrument the blessing was not of my own making. I had been a sort of receiver-transmitter. No more.
I stared at the light above me. Was it a star or a UFO? Hardly looking I crossed the road and ran through a car-park nearby. Two boys passed by on bicycles. I pointed at the light.
“Look at that. Do you think that’s a star?” I asked them. The boys stared at the light for a second.
“No, it’s too bright for a star,” one of them replied.
“That’s what I thought!” I shouted and ran off towards the house of an acquaintance nearby. I knocked excitedly at the door. Finally someone answered. Almost beside myself with excitement I entered.
“There’s a light outside and I’m sure it’s not a star. Have you seen it?”
The room was full of people and the heavy smell of marijuana. Empty beer cans lay on the floor and there was an air of torpor and depression everywhere. I went to a large picture-window and stared at the sky. The light remained in the same spot.
“Look, it’s up there. Do you think it might be a UFO?”
No one answered. In the circumstances it was hardly surprising. I left the house and walked through the estate back to my own flat. Every now and then I looked over my shoulder at the light. It didn’t move or change its shape and its position in the sky remained constant. I had wondered if it was an aircraft coming into land. Sometimes an aircraft descending on a flight path directly ahead of a ground observer could appear to be stationary for a long while.
I told myself to keep calm. I really didn’t want to fool myself. At the moment it remained an unidentified stationary object which was most likely a star or a planet ... except for the energy that pulsated out of it. However fanciful the earlier experience with the bubbles might have felt I had had a strong sensation of being ‘programmed’ by this light.
Only a few nights ago I had prayed to Baba, asking him to tell me the truth about UFOs. That night I had a dream where beams of light played upon a hillside familiar to me. On the hill were ancient earthworks which I knew held a great deal of historic as well as personal, spiritual and psychic significance. Baba seemed to have answered me through this dream. Now perhaps he was giving me the rest of his answer. I changed out of my working suit, washed and went into the kitchen to prepare some tea and toast. After tea I decided to go out and sneak another look. Then maybe I could study it at leisure.
But when I returned outside the sky had clouded over and there was no chance that it was going to clear that night. Disappointed, I returned indoors, determined to examine the sky at the same time the next day. During the following week I did so twice. On neither occasion was the large bright light to be seen. Only a much smaller one which appeared to be drawing away from the Earth.
The second time I was standing in the back garden of some friends.
“Look at those stars,” I said, drawing their attention to the receding light, “I’m sure that the one on the left is not a star at all. Last week it was much closer. Now it seems to be moving away. In a few days it’ll disappear at that rate.”
The day after the first sighting was Baba’s birthday. In my eyes the synchronicity of events had made the whole experience immensely more significant. And what followed served only to enhance this.
On the birthday, Friday 23 November, I attended celebratory bhajans4 at a devotee’s house in a village not far away. After bhajans our host, Kamala, provided us with a very enjoyable Indian meal. Quite without intention I had been fasting all day so to me the meal was a perfect ending to the day. But a much greater blessing was yet to come.
I returned home in the early hours of Saturday morning feeling completely energized by the bhajans and spiritual company. Making a cup of tea I decided to turn in and read for a while. But I couldn’t concentrate and after attempting a couple of pages put the book down. Should I go out for a walk? I asked myself. But it felt far too cold to be wandering outside. My flat-mate was asleep in the room next to mine so I put some music on a tape-cassette machine and settled down to listen to it on headphones. For some while I must have lain there listening. About 3 AM I began to doze off.
And at the moment between sleep and wakefulness — commonly the time when out-of-body experiences occur — I saw it. Directly before me, above my bed, was a panorama of deep space. It was as if I sat in front of a gigantic cinema screen. In the foreground a huge celestial-silver flying saucer shaped like a discus hovered in a stationary position. On its lower body I could see several orange portholes glowing. From these shone nine great laser-beams of pure, white light. And within the beams, falling gently down to Earth, were translucent red and green bubbles.
I could feel the bubbles energizing the Earth as they entered its atmosphere. Little silver circles appeared as the cosmic currents fused with those which rose to meet it from the depths of Gaia.
The next morning I hurried downstairs and began to make notes and drawings of what I remembered of the out-of-body experience as well as everything else that had happened during the weeks prior to it. What was the meaning of it all? Was the dream flying saucer a close-up of the inexplicably bright star I had seen the day before? Jung had referred to UFOs as modern man’s mandalas.5 In his biography he recalls a dream in which he saw several UFOs. One of them was “a perfectly circular lens, like the objective of a telescope.” The shape seemed to be remarkably similar to the discus-like object I had seen.
Jung awoke from the dream to the thought, “We always think that the UFOs are projections of ours. Now it turns out that we are their projections. I am projected by the magic lantern as C.G. Jung. But who manipulates the apparatus?”6
In the months to come, my mandala or vision continued to give me new insights into its meaning. “What you saw was a vision of the Grail,” I was told by an inner voice. This really didn’t help me at all! In my mind I had seen the Grail as a chalice. But this Grail was like Jung’s telescope lens. Then I came across some lines of poetry from The Holy Grail by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
"...and then
Stream’d thro’ my cell a cold and silver beam,
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail,
Rose red with beatings on it as if alive,
Till all the white walls of my cell were dyed
With rosy colours leaping on the wall..."7
I had read the quotation in a book by the UFO researcher, John Michell, who argued a convincing case that the mystery surrounding the Grail legend actually centred on Man’s search for the sky gods of olden times. The Grail too was an archetypal symbol of considerable potency and not without some relationship to UFOs.
In the story of the Round Table the Holy Grail appeared after a clap of thunder as a bright shining light. The hall at Camelot “became filled with a beautiful scent and colours played on the faces of the Knights, so that they became transformed and everyone appeared radiant to his neighbour ... Then the Grail and its attendant entered the hall. Covered in white samite it passed overhead and disappeared. Immediately all the knights swore to dedicate their lives to the quest for this sublime object”8
This event was said to have its contemporary parallel in the Miracle of Fatima in 1917 when thousands witnessed angels, the blessed Virgin Mary and UFO sightings over a period of six months.
I thought of my own psychic connections with Galahad and Glastonbury. Something profoundly significant was being revealed to me but my rational mind kept questioning, dissecting and blocking me. Jung’s mandala theory fit neatly in with the experience. The mandala represented an archetypal symbol of wholeness where the conflict between ego-consciousness (little self) and the inner (higher Self) was resolved. In his dream Jung’s magic lantern could be interpreted as the higher Self beaming down little self into the duality and maya of Earth-life as a projection through a UFO which resembled the lens of a telescope. A mandala dream might foreshadow a resolving of the duality which separated self from Self and a moving towards unification and wholeness.
Symbolically the polar opposite red and green bubbles I had experienced could be seen to represent the two selves polarized. First I had sensed them falling over the military base as a cosmic blessing. Maybe this had been my peacemaking with those I had seen up until then as the adversary who threatened my life with nuclear war. Then I had seen the bubbles fall together from the UFO mandala to form circles of celestial silver as they touched own. The circles might have symbolized the cosmic resolution of opposites and their energetic dance of celebration a sign of empowerment.
I began to ask myself if this was Baba’s way of revealing his true identity to me. In my heart there was no question that he was indeed the Lord of the Universe. But in my head the rational mind kept inventing new questions and cast doubt on everything. Could he really be the Avathar or were we all fooling ourselves? What was I to make of all this business with UFOs and lights in the sky? Wasn’t it all just a bit off the wall?
I told Janet about my experience.
“That’s incredible,” she replied. “Baba is associated with the number nine. And your UFO had nine beams of light shining from it. I don’t understand why Baba has given you a dream of UFOs but it certainly does seem that he’s telling you something!”
Somebody had told me that Baba never appeared in a dream without reason and without his own choosing. I hadn’t actually seen Baba in my dreams but it was impossible to dismiss what I had experienced just before and after his birthday. And Janet’s young daughter had seen the light as well.
“About the time you saw your light, Amy saw a bright star in the south-west and said,’Look, Mummy, there’s the Star of Bethlehem!’”
At the collective level I could see that the UFO was a common-enough 20th century archetype; that UFO sightings had increased vastly since the end of WWII providing evidence of a crucial psychic change in the human race. The psychic cleavage — Man’s divided self — sought union with itself and healing in preparation for a mass initiation into the Aquarian Age.9 To grasp the possibility of other more advanced life forms meant our having to re-evaluate the purpose of our own lives in a materialistic age when Man rejected Spirit for Reason, and burned incense in praise of Mammon and his own image.
Whatever we might think, the UFO phenomenon is a shared reality. One way or another it has to be rationalized. And the most challenging rationale that beckons requires our will to reach beyond the constraints of the third dimension towards higher worlds ... to lift ourselves up by our own boot-strings beyond duality and separation.
The events surrounding Baba’s birthday remained a mystery that demanded answers. And I was left in no doubt as to their powerful psychic effect on my life. A lot seemed to be happening since I had gone to Glastonbury. And other revelations were yet to come when the UFO mandala would return in an even greater surge of energy. Though I could barely grasp the meaning of it all I could sense that at the centre of my drama stood Sathya Sai Baba, waiting to take my hand and walk with me towards the dawn.
Christmas 1984 approached and with it the impending arrival of Arthur. The winter had begun to turn cold. My work as a substitute teacher was in the doldrums and I began to worry acutely about the lack of money coming in. I had considerable debts to pay and just to make things more unpleasant had experienced a particularly unfortunate incident which left me with a broken left arm and a dislocated shoulder. Moving into Aquarius was not all going with the flow. Sometimes the flow could get pretty rough! Anyway, I accepted the incident as the chance to pay off bad karma and decided not to allow it to depress me.
A few painful hours in hospital and I had returned home all patched up and wondering how I was going to carry on driving my car to work. Well, the thing to do was to try driving with one arm I decided. The next morning, I climbed into the car and began to teach myself a new way of steering and changing gear. Baba’s picture was on the dash-board so I knew no harm would come to me. It felt as if Baba was really doing the driving and, thanks to his Grace, I did not experience the slightest worry or danger during that period of handicap.
Arthur Garside at Findhorn
One Tuesday afternoon just before Christmas I arrived at Barbara’s house to meet Arthur Garside. As I walked into the lounge I saw a tall, lanky man well over six feet in height seated on the sofa. He rose to greet me. Arthur was in his ‘seventies and full of vigour. His slightly pointed features gave him the appearance of a rather wise and friendly Venusian. He seemed to be a modest even self effacing man whose charisma did not immediately show through.
“Well, we’ve been waiting for your visit for some months now,” I bantered. “There are quite a few people, especially in Glastonbury, who claim to be the reincarnation of King Arthur. But I suspect that Wallingford can now claim the real one!”
“D’you really think so?” Arthur replied. “I’m surprised you recognized me because I’ve left my crown at the cleaners!”
“It’s not the first time I’ve had my leg pulled about my name,” he continued. Then his features took on a more serious look. “But I suppose you’d like to ask me some other questions now, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, tell me about your work as a Spiritual Messenger.”
“Well, you could call me a Messenger of God,” he replied in his matter-of-fact way. “I go around delivering messages to all and sundry.”
“And the messages ... where do they come from?” I asked.
“From an authoritative Source, telepathically, via my control. The control, ‘DAVID’, uses me like a megaphone from that higher Authority.”
In the weeks that followed we were to hear these messages on several occasions. That afternoon however we sat in the comfort of Barbara’s home and heard something of Arthur’s personal story.
He was seventy-two years old that year and had worked for most of his life in the offices of a South African mining company. Many of his immediate family had been psychically gifted but none of them it seemed had experienced the kind of drama that he had undergone during his apprenticeship as a Messenger. Having received his first channelling while in his mid-‘thirties he had been urged, in 1958 by the spirit of Amenhotep, to write down any messages that came to him. The control, ‘DAVID’, came to him much later and his first control had been a Tibetan monk called Ambrose.
Ambrose taught Arthur to obey the guidance given to him. During their time together Arthur had been obliged under instruction to resign his job, sell his house and to give the money away, to dump his car in the middle of Johannesburg and to rid himself of all his possessions — even his toothbrush and razor! The story was unique and Arthur’s narration honest and convincing.
Here was a man who had given himself completely to Spirit, who didn’t worry about the future or his material circumstances. He had given away everything believing that his needs would always be met. And Spirit had never let him down. Contentment and joy radiated from this remarkable being who struck me as a shining example of true saintliness.
During the messages that followed I would fall into a reverie sometimes. When he really got going Arthur could be easily mistaken for a fire ‘n’ brimstone preacher of the kind I remembered from the Sunday services at the Presbyterian Dutch Reformed Church in Colombo. But that was invariably the I AM Presence sparing nothing to get across the Truth. Normally, it was ‘DAVID’ who usually began the messages. When he spoke Arthur kept his eyes open and appeared quite normal.
"Our God is the UNIVERSE. God cannot be confined to a single form. What is common to all things? Life ... Man makes exceptions to the presence of God. But God is LIGHT and it is out of that LIGHT that all things manifested. The origin of all our being is LIGHT or SPIRIT or MIND or LIFE. We manifested out of LIGHT. Therefore we ARE of LIGHT."
‘DAVID’ told us that each of us had a physical and an etheric body. In death the physical body was discarded for the etheric body. And the Planet, too, had an etheric body.
"Death is a transformation from this body into that one."
He told us that death was an illusion, not even a transition, because there was no real break between the physical and etheric. The material plane in which we found ourselves was, he said, the very lowest level and the farthest region into which we could travel away from the Creator. We had fallen into a state of duality that kept us separate...
Arthur stopped in mid-sentence, closed his eyes, stood up and stretched his arms out widely, one hand closed as if it held the world within it like an apple. His voice deepened, its sound emitting from the Solar Plexus. The I AM spoke from the depths of Inner Space.
"Listen to Me. You and I are ONE. Listen for My Voice if you choose to go into the silence. Although your time on Earth may be shorter than you think, fear not. YOU ARE AN ETERNAL BEING!"
When the I AM spoke I never doubted that what we heard was the voice of truth. I knew, intuitively that it was so. Now the I AM told us that it was our fear and ignorance that kept us in a state of perpetual misery and struggle. But, by high principles of good behaviour and by showing compassion for others, we could rise out of the mire.
"See to it that you have your last fight here — your Armageddon,
that your Spiritual Self shall overshadow, completely, your
material self. Here is where you face the good, the bad and
the indifferent. If you choose to rise above the bad and the
indifferent — then you do yourself a favour!"
The message was given to us in no-nonsense, straightforward language. And we too were advised to listen quietly for the inner voice that would guard and guide us in our lives.
"It is better, by far, that you have an inner source to guide
you. For when I come to you it is because you have earned it."
By listening inwardly the voice of inner guidance would, sooner or later, be heard. Finally we were advised to pray by filling ourselves with brilliant colour and harmony and to seek congenial companionship.
"All is well, we were told. You cannot die as if you were in a
tragedy. But live to some purpose. And see to it that purpose
is of good, constructive nature. Never to the detriment of
your neighbour. In that way honour your Father and your Mother."
For the first time in years I attended midnight communion with some of my family that Christmas Eve. Whilst kneeling in prayer I heard God speak to me.
“This church is very old and beautiful,” He said. “But it has been made into a museum. People come here to find Me. But all they find is the museum! For my Spirit is everywhere and in everything. I am in the forests and in the fields, in the rivers and in the mountains. So find me here by all means. But do not go away thinking that I live in a museum!”
As the I AM ended speaking the man in the pew just in front of me began to shake his head violently from side to side. I wondered if he too had heard the voice or was it just another divine synchronicity? Maybe he had heard it and thought it was the devil? I recalled all the times when as a child I had felt an inner presence speak within me during a church service. Feeling uncomfortable I tried to suppress it. But the presence didn’t go away so easily. Finally I stopped visiting museums to find God — not because I had ceased to thirst after the spiritual experience but because the services rarely slaked that thirst or addressed themselves to that inner presence.
But now I knew that the voice that had spoken so clearly within me in the medieval village church that morning was the same I AM that used Arthur as a Messenger. The time had come to try and contact my own spiritual guide. I had heard inner voices since childhood and they had sounded real enough. But I had dismissed them as nothing more than the imagination or some other inexplicable inner process. Jung had his Philemon and Arthur his ‘DAVID’. Did a higher Being wait patiently for a time when I chose to listen and make contact?
I spent a very lonely Christmas at the manor. Perhaps the solitude was necessary for the inner changes that were taking place within me. I spent a lot of time praying and meditating. When the temperature really dropped I would curl up inside bed with a book and a hot water bottle. That winter it often fell below Zero Celsius. The street outside became silent. Too much snow had fallen. Everyone was at home eating and drinking too much just because it was the thing to do at Christmas.
The gas-fire glowed in the corner of the room. My dog Sally lay curled up, snoring at the foot of the bed. I began to read a novel which had been recommended to me during a chance conversation with a middle-aged woman on the CND train that had brought us back from Barrow the previous October.
The novel concerned a planet threatened by an imminent ice age. The planet’s representatives had tried everything to no avail to save it from destruction. The parallels with our own planet were disturbingly obvious. I thought of all the initiatives for peace that must have taken place during the history of terrestrial civilization. Had they ever prevented any wars? And, according to some informed opinion, the Earth too was heading into an ice age.
I remembered the feelings of despair and hopelessness that at times could so easily overwhelm activists in the Peace Movement. Sometimes it seemed that nothing could stop rearmament, the spread of militarization and state repression.
The I AM that had spoken through Arthur had warned us about the End Days, that the Earth had been born in violence and would die in violence. But we had been told also that we should not be overly concerned. We and the Planet had an etheric body. Death was no more than the shifting of consciousness from the physical into the etheric.
In the novel, the threatened planet had finally succumbed to an ice age. The last survivors had struggled to a mountain peak in the desperate hope of being saved by a space-fleet. Instead, they had died together on the mountain top. But the end of their lives, they discovered, was the beginning of another. As they moved into that other life they found it easy to forget their heavy, material bodies.
“Our new eyes had no steady perspective. We went floating onwards, free and light, and when we looked back for orientation at the carcasses we had inhabited, we saw only that we were among throngs of the most marvellous intricate structures and shapes: glittering crystals surrounded us, all different, each a marvel of subtlety and balance, each a thing we could have stayed to contemplate and wonder over ... yet there were myriads of them, they came floating and drifting all about us, and, as our eyes kept changing their capacity, sometimes these crystals seemed enormous, as large as we were, and sometimes small. It was not at once that we understood that these multitudes of infinitely various shapes were snowflakes; that were, or had recently been, our enemy: it was by the agency of such loveliness that our little planet had slowly been done to death..”10
Through physical death they had been liberated into a much lighter world. I began to ask myself if it could be that the way we too were to achieve the Golden Age was similarly to go beyond the limitation of this dualistic life through transcending the physical body?
Perhaps the conversation on the train had not been such a coincidence after all? I toyed with the play on words suggested by the lady’s name, which she told me was Dance. Maybe our meeting too had been part of the dance of synchronicity that was going on in my life. Was it no more than a coincidence that I should find myself reading this book at the very time Arthur had chosen to visit us? I could have borrowed it weeks ago from the library. The timing, it seemed, was very neat.
Arthur was travelling around Britain visiting friends and we hadn’t planned on seeing him again. He told us that he was never sure of his itinerary because it was ‘DAVID’ that organized his visits. As it happened, he visited us twice more before leaving for South Africa. By then I had begun to feel that ‘DAVID’ was bringing him back to us for some specific purpose.
Finally, Arthur received instructions from ‘DAVID’ to return home. The evening before his departure, I went over to Barbara’s house to wish him goodbye. By this time I had grown to love this cheerful soul who had inspired us all no end. We sat in Barbara’s home enjoying each other’s congenial company.
Suddenly Arthur went into a state of semi-trance. We had grown accustomed to this and waited expectantly to hear what came through. Then ‘DAVID’ spoke and, during the message that followed, he seemed to be hinting that we were to continue working together in some way after Arthur’s departure. Was this why I had had to read that book and why Arthur had come back to spend more time with us? Were we were being prepared? Finally, ‘DAVID’ gently bade us farewell and took his leave saying, “It’s over to you, now.” The words continued to echo in our minds long after his departure.
And I was left with the overwhelming sense of an invisible doorway being opened to us on another dimension...
© RW 1989
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