Star Woman in Love (10 page)

Memories of that perfect May afternoon fuse my soul to this day. I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. What would my life be like without you from then on?

“I’m leaving, Cassandra.”

I looked away from your face. A part of me thought it was impossible for you to separate from me and go away. You explained the reason for your journey. Your voice seemed to come from far away.

“I’m going to Teotihuacan.”

A shadow entered my mind. The journey you were about to embark on was unavoidable. It had been planned before our paths crossed.

“Tlaloc Gomez, a Toltec artist, has invited me to attend a spiritual gathering where I can meet a famous nagual... he has something to teach me...”

You were training to become a shaman, I knew, although you were sworn not to talk about it. I respected that. I wasn’t thinking of the detail of your forthcoming mission: the berry you fed me was still in my mouth. So sweet was it on my tongue I couldn’t bear to eat it yet. A metaphor for where we were in relation to each other.

I took your hand and held it on my face. I kissed your palm. It was my pledge for you to stay. My timid prayer for that shadow to go away, not you. Your silent answer was ‘no’. Your spiritual call came first, even before your art and before me. I loved you even more for that. You were torn. You faltered. Unspoken thoughts grabbed your attention. I kept whispering kisses on the palm of your hand, letting them beg you to hold me. Your body wrapped itself around me as if your soul was melting with mine, spurred by my innocent caress. But the shadow around us was growing stronger and reaching out to envelop us.

Yet your hold felt powerful and immense. There, in the meadow, by the blackberry bush, we entered forever, together, if only for a split second of human time. The shadow couldn’t reach us there. Eternity’s embrace has a vastness and a stillness words cannot describe. We couldn’t hold back so we held each other tightly, in silence, under the dance of the sunrays above us, through the leafy branches and into our hearts. Interwoven by enchantment. Pledged to the everlasting. Me and you, you and me. The early springtime sun our accomplice. Two easy preys to love’s arrows. A long, grave silence surrounded us.

“I don’t really want to go, Cassie.” 

The spell was broken by your voice, to my delight. Your tone was deeper than normal but as musical to my ear as nothing else I’d ever heard before our first encounter.

“I’ve never felt this disconcerted before a spiritual gathering. I don’t like the way I feel. I am in two minds. You read me in full... Normally my spiritual and my artistic work would be all I can think of, all I can dream about... but now all I think about is you... And I don’t know if it’s healthy...”

I marvelled at your courage and honesty, and reassured you.

“I agree, it’s not a good thing, Oscar. It’s premature, to say the least. That’s why we feel confused. I have the same problem. I’m with you all the time apart from when I sleep. And I don’t sleep much because I can’t wait to get up and run to you upon awakening. My life is pointing to one direction, revolving around one fulcrum. I’m kind of losing my sense of self, in a way. I feel dizzy, though happily so, and I don’t know what to do. It’s like I’m spinning fast and I’m losing the grip on my normal life. Everything is slipping through my fingers apart from you. Well, now you’re also slipping away... In the end all I do is spend time with you, in conversation or in silence. Nothing else matters, as long as we’re together. That’s my call. And that’s my peace. I am baffled at it myself...”

You scratched the top of your head with the endearing gesture I’d already come to recognise as one of your idiosyncrasies. I drew a deep breath and walked away from you. I sat down under a pine tree, leaning my back on its trunk in search of support and reassurance. You flicked a curl away from your eyes and joined me where I was sitting. After some manoeuvring of your long limbs among the knotty roots of the tree, you squeezed your tall body next to the minuteness and frailty of mine. My sadness exploded into happiness.

“What are we going to do, Cassandra?”

You were afraid of our love, it was obvious. And I was concerned that you feared it. I didn’t know what to answer. A pinecone fell at our feet, missing your right foot by one inch. You picked it up and put it to your nose, letting the evergreenness of its fragrance feel your nostrils. Then you handed it over to me. As I touched it, I realised what I had to say.

“The Universe has answered your question, Oscar. The message from this pinecone is that we are eternal, we are for keeps. When all our fear is washed off our hearts, we will be ready.”   

The atmosphere between us became solemn. We entered the Speechless Realm. The air around fizzled and atoms accelerated, refining their Cores, titillating and unifying our senses in the process. The Earth started to speak to us in the Secret Language, which sounds like water, emotions and belonging. You could hear it too. We had become Light and merged with our souls. All the birds in the Botanical Gardens flew over to the tree under which we were sitting. I felt like Snow White in the forest in the Disney movie. A fearless Snow White, mind you. A magic woman. A shaman. In touch with my true animal power, my feathered totem, my primal soul. All flying creatures were my relations. They gathered there to honour and acknowledge that. The words I told you seconds before weren’t the offspring of my rational choice. They came from a natural urge, one without an explanation. Pure instinct. The Earth itself was speaking through me. She had taken me to my first long-lasting timeless experience with you.

Our totems appeared. A butterfly landed on my leg. A lizard crawled on the trunk next to your head. The first stood for transformation and the second for alertness and protection. The makings of our future were being played out through nature’s symbols. Matter rarefied as if it were air, our physical bodies gave way to the Light, our souls turned to gold. No boundaries, no space, no time, no more words. Just essence. Pure potentiality. As real as we can be.

Your eyes were wide open, staring into mine and into eternity. I could see your soul through them. How long we stayed in that ecstasy, I cannot tell. The music-box-like tune of an ice cream van broke the spell. We came back to our bodies like a shock.

“Fancy an ice cream, Oscar?,” I said, massaging my forehead to ground myself.

You grinned and stood up. In those days we had a tacit agreement not to talk about our merging with the Light. We would shoulder it as part and parcel of our connection. Speaking about it would only detract from the experience. We were a psychedelic dream and the Earth was our dreamer, our dream-maker. Two souls, naked in the sunshine, surrendered to the Life Force. Ready for adventure, whatever that may be. After all, we had managed to keep one step ahead of the Darkness, at least for a while.

“Cassie, I can’t get over how lovely you are, with the sun in your hair...”   

Words. Like darts to my heart, target hit. No action yet. Ah, the torture we were inflicting upon each other, and that unbearable longing, bursting like a flooding river in our young limbs.

“I am your mirror, Oscar, I am just your mirror, my magical friend,” I said.  

Heavy silence on the grass and, like morning dew, on the jewels in our hearts. I could touch the depths of your love.

I found the courage. “Go, now, before you change your mind. I can’t allow you to do that.”   

It was written in the stars. It would have been pointless to try to alter a mere sentence in the Book of Life. Distance means nothing to the Eternal Flame. Time is insignificant for those of us who can taste eternity. I was sad all the same. I slipped a piece of paper with my address on it in your pocket, put my forehead on your chest and then I walked away without hugging you. Not once did I turn to watch you as you stood tall in the meadow, the sun playing with your hair and your eyes of amber.

It hurt, you know, to let you go. Once you experience completeness in a human form, it’s almost impossible to conceive of separation, and it’s physically painful to go through it. As I walked away from you, my shadow cast its shape ahead in the midday sunshine. The day was turning hot. I wore the sadness that only a requited lover can bear. I found it exciting, verging on the erotic. Your eyes were fixed on the roundness of my bottom. My hormones were dancing in my womb. A cloud in the sky flew by. It had the shape of a dragon. I heard your steps move in the opposite direction. Our time apart had truly started. When was it going to end? 

I prayed to the air and the sky: “Please, time, run fast, and help me be strong while my love is away.”   

I dragged my steps. I was determined not to cry. Something darted in my peripheral sight. It startled me to the point I had to stop and catch my breath.

* * * *

Shambhala, May 1993

The Earthly outpost of Angel Activity is the beautiful oasis of Shambhala, hovering over the Gobi Desert. That’s where we live. This place is invisible to the human eye. It vibrates to the pulsation of the fourth dimension, a parallel realm of potentiality also known as the plane of ideas. Art and music are the paths to this realm. Here, reality and unreality swap places, and time and motion are recognised as illusions. The Arts originate in the fourth dimension, as do many of humanity’s dreams.

Human beings are vessels for the symbols the Universe conveys in the guise of art. These symbols are what we call the Secret Language. Initiates into the Mysteries of Ascension are always on the lookout for the signs the Earth is sending their way in the form of art. They point them back home while they are in the third dimension, the realm of materiality, duality and separation. By contrast, spirit, potentiality, monism and unity rule in Shambhala.

These two planes are separated by a filter called the Veil of Illusion, or the Veil of Maya. This Veil is where the Mind of Creation is perceived as fragmented, although this is pure illusion, a trick played by the individualised minds of each living being. In actual fact, all minds are but One. However, the sense of human identity is determined by the ego. Unity of mind is only experienced by a few enlightened souls on the three-dimensional Earth. The opposite is true in Shambhala, which is inhabited by pure minds whose symbiosis and synchronicity are perfected. We are such minds, and we use our Light-Bodies in our work to ensure that the Purpose of Creation can be revealed to the dwellers of the Earth.

Shambhala is as real to us as it is a myth to human beings. As human legend goes, the Gobi desert was once a great ocean where there was an island called the White Island. Its dwellers had bodies made of Light. The humans called them saints and worshiped them as deities. To the uninitiated, the desert is all that can be seen. But Shambhala is no myth: it’s a parallel dimension. To us, there is no desert but an ocean of Light surrounding the Diamond Island. We are those Light Beings, and the island is our home. We are a colony of Higher Beings. Some of us are of Earthly descent. Most of us are Star People. We often interact with humans, though invisibly so. We hear and answer their prayers.

The intrepid spirit we had told Cassandra about when she was a child is connected to the purpose of the Shambhalians. Her role in the Movement for Planetary Ascension is fundamental, as it will become apparent. The Movement includes humans as well as Light Beings, mortal and immortal alike. It revolves around an Ancient Prophecy that tells how humanity will change into a higher, more evolved, more loving race when humankind wakes up to its Potential and the Light of the human soul. However, over the millennia the ego has cast the thick fog of illusion over it. Thus humans perceive and create the world in a distorted manner.

The physical location of this Light is in the pineal gland, or third eye, of the species’ brain. Initiates into the Mysteries of Ascension undergo training to open the third eye. This in turn will kick-start the complete reworking of the human organism into a more sophisticated instrument, and will activate humanity’s 12-strand spiritual DNA. The first two strands of DNA, scientifically discovered, are physical: the double helix building blocks of life. But there are five other double helix pairs in the DNA system of life. These pairs are non-physical and are imprinted on the human energy field. Together, the six pairs of strands constitute the “12-strand DNA” system”. Through the process of activation of the other five pairs, human beings will become ‘enlightened’ at the physical level, transforming their bodies into special vehicles capable of self-healing, teletransportation, telepathy and other so-called ‘super powers’. They will become the masters of matter and elude death for longer than they are currently able.

According to a Mayan prophecy, on 21 December 2012 the number of ascended humans will reach a critical mass. This will trigger a series of transformations and bring about major changes in the world. For the better. It will be the end of the world as humankind knows it. It will happen against many odds, although many are sabotaging the prophecy. But we know the outcome because we travel across time, just like Cassandra.

The Earth is the Garden of Eden though not many can see it. Children can catch a glimpse of the beauty of this planet, albeit growing up tends to adulterate the soul. But the day is approaching when, in the Light of the True Self, human dwellers will learn to distinguish the illusions of their egos from the truth of their souls. Evil will fade away like a snowman in the sunshine. All internal conflict, which once produced external struggle, hatred, competition and war, shall cease to exist at last. The King of Shambhala will emerge to govern the New Earth, revealed in all her glory to the renewed human race. The story has a happy ending and it’s been written in the stars, although a period of decadent, dissolute materialism will precede the Age of Shambhala. This dark prelude coincides with the final decades of the twentieth century, and the first few decades of the new millennium.