Star Woman in Love (3 page)

A handful of adventurous souls before them had started the trend. It took the physical merge of a man and a woman who could hold the Light of the Morning Star to make an angel. However, these highly evolved Beings didn’t fully grasp what they were really getting themselves into. Success rates so far had been dangerously low. The risk of becoming trapped into matter was real. The peril of forgetting the purpose of their Earth Journey and falling prey to the Wheel of Karma for many lifetimes was high on the cards. Earth angels were few and far between: one in a thousand Earth years. To make things worse, the results to date had been very short-lived: ascetic human creatures devoid of sexuality. Lucifer was one notorious exception, of course. After all, this ambitious pioneer was the angel who had started the Game with his famous fall. He was the Inventor of the Game itself. He made his home on Earth and decided to linger on; he is now a well established presence on the blue planet, and a very human one at that.

Given that the making of an angel on Earth was no easy task, much pondering and exploring the concept of ‘life as humans’ had filled these spirits’ lives before they eventually decided to give it a try. They hoped that the memory of their original Light – their frequency signatures – would be enough for them to remember that they were actually one becoming two as a bit of fun. Matter, however, would prove tricky and sticky. It would provide a completely new experience for which they had no frame of reference. Hopefully, their Morning Star ancestry could enable them to have human bodies made of a type of flesh that couldn’t hold on to anything that wasn’t conducive to love, wisdom and bliss for too long. Nevertheless, they understood that the frequency of love on Earth was very sluggish and weak, their physical senses would slow down experience, and the Ancient Tune - the Cosmic Music that holds the threads of Creation in perfect balance - wouldn’t always be detected. They might fall prey to the illusion of separation, and feel lost, confused, alone…

Back to the point where these spirits were lining up for incarnation. One among them is at the heart of this story. This playful soul was staring at the Earth, transfixed by surprise and anticipation. So engrossed was she in this new vision that her essence unexpectedly projected itself in space-time into the realm of matter. Although briefly, and solely through her perception, this spirit ended up on Earth before having actually entered the Launcher. It is impossible to tell the length of her visit, given that the spirit had not acquired the notion of time yet. Did any inhabitant of the Earth notice this fleeting visitation? Did her presence on the planet leave a mark, or an imprint? Did it change someone’s life? And if so, how? Someone was bound to have sensed this unusual, higher presence.

In this uncharted territory, a weird sensation of incompleteness crept in from the outside into the spirit’s mind. As she scanned the new surroundings, she realised something was missing. This made this curious, disembodied visitor want to loiter on for a while longer. She felt compelled to set out searching for the missing element, finding novel trepidation and a new sense of pleasure in tuning into the alien environs. It was becoming obvious to the visitor that in this new place perfection wasn’t expressed in stillness but in action: through flowing, becoming, evolving. How totally different an experience this was from what life had presented her with, up until then...

Right before the experience could sink in properly, and in the blink of an eye (figuratively speaking), this solitary, adventurous spirit was pulled back in the queue on the Moon. Perhaps nobody had noticed her absence. Then the air turned red and vibrant: high time was approaching. This and the other fellow spirits increased their frequencies. Their orchestral sound turned deeper, like a drone. The tempo of their Core pulsations quickened. All that these ground-breaking souls wanted to do was to surrender to the pull of matter and follow the change in their frequency signature. After eons of calmness, the moment had come for them to fall temporarily asleep, and wait for the Big Wave to cut them in two.

At last they reached and entered the Launcher. Their Cores dissipated into time-fuelled semi-oblivion. Their Light became squashed and compressed into an egg, and off they went to Earth. So this story ends. As another one begins.”

Having accomplished our mission, we left the room and returned to Shambhala, elsewhere in space and time.

Cassandra stirred. “Mummy?,” she said. “Goodnight...”

Her mother awoke suddenly. She had fallen asleep in her chair. Antidepressants would often make her do just that. At least she had not been crying that day. She sat on Cassandra’s bed, removed an unruly brown curl from the child’s sleepy green eyes and placed the whisper of a kiss on her forehead. They smiled at each other.

“Goodnight, Cassie, sweet dreams.”

The little girl fell asleep again, right away. She dreamt that she was running with other children on a meadow in bloom, without a care in the world. A part of her was just like any other normal child after all.

______________

Star Dream, 10 December 1992

Love was to sweep me away like a waterfall in the twenty-sixth springtime of my life. Right then it was still the winter before such a wondrous time. I was twenty-four and didn’t yet have an idea of the size of the feeling that would hit me a few months later. I can zoom into that day very easily: another grey morning was about to break and the seven hills of Edinburgh were shrouded in cold mist. In one of the Georgian houses in the New Town, I was fast asleep in my blue bedroom.

I had painted the whole room that colour a year earlier, during a bout of misplacement activity whilst studying for my Masters Degree in Medieval History. Blue would help my mind focus on the books, I thought, so I had varnished the floor boards “the colour of the Ionic sea”, as I informed Gwen, one of my two flatmates. “I’ll have the walls in a hue akin to the Italian sky at the offset of springtime, when the air is a-blaze with the love-spell of blossoms.” I had a penchant for metaphors at that age, especially when I was talking to myself or I was day-dreaming.

Many of my friends would criticise that: “Come on, Cassandra. You must be doing that on purpose. Do you think such affectations make you come across as different?” Gwen didn’t share their point of view, so I could let my fondness of enchanting descriptions emerge in our conversations. My Welsh flatmate was an artist who understood that imaging is the staple of life and words are symbols made to encapsulate stories, convey moods and capture dreams. In years to come she would become a prominent member of the Transformation Movement, the worldwide association for the evolution of humankind which I would found in 1997.

At that point in time, I was fast asleep and still unclear as to my specific role in the Masters’ Plan. The curtains were pulled. In my dreams, my kaleidoscopic thoughts were immersed in the world of my imagination. It was 5.40 in the morning and my mind was lulled by a vision: I lived on a star I was at one with. With no boundaries, I floated and whirled in a fairy-tale landscape of a pinkish radiance. The environment looked beautiful and liquid. Objects and people were outlined in vivid colours interwoven with harmonious sounds and a palette of delicate, happy feelings. It was a familiar place. An invisible melodic drone underlined this magical climate. My heart, eyes and ears were processing this dream-world in complete synchrony, producing a mono-feeling of bliss that I hoped would last forever and I could remember upon awakening.

For sure, that dream had something to do with the large amounts of marijuana muffins my flatmates and I had baked and feasted upon the night before. But this thought had not entered my dream at all. Instead, I was floating down the stream of notes, sounds and pulsations which felt like an echo through my body. My hands were resting on my flat tummy, sensing the drone of musical beats running through my veins. It was pleasant and arousing. I wasn’t alone in my vision. A strong sexual presence followed me: male energy with a powerful sensation of longing. The whole being of this man was pining for me. His breath drew me to the centre of his heart where there was a waterfall of emotions. I couldn’t quite see him, yet I felt complete in his company.

I stirred in my sleep. My arm stretched out to look for Gordon’s body. He wasn’t in my bed that morning. So I let my fingers slip inside my knickers. My body was filled by a stream of gentle Light-beats. It felt like a musical instrument. The intensity of the starry pulsation grew as my limbs turned to velvet and sounded like an orchestra. Somewhere in my chest there was a loud hammering. My heart was the bass drum. The sound grew more thunderous and sharper, filling the space between my cells with the distinct tinkle of triangles, cymbals and bells, the loudest bells in the Universe. My fingers kept busy. Climax was approaching. Whirlpools of metallic reverb travelled up to my head and into my ears in waves of sparkling chimes, on and on like a fountain, like a waterfall upside down.

Just a fraction of a second from pleasure, the alarm went off on my bedside table. Its metallic shrieks sounded as sharp as an icicle collapsing on the snowfall-like silence of my bedroom. My hand abandoned the warmth of my thighs to silence the clock. 6 a.m. My awareness returned to my youthful body. I became the university student again, on automatic pilot. With my eyes half-closed and star-fragments still scattered in my mind, I got out of bed and dragged myself to sit by the window. Not a sound came from the crescent below.

“What a dream,” I thought. Its meaning was beyond words. I remembered flashes of sensations, sounds and emotions. Breathing deeply to make myself awake, I parted the muslin curtains to see the outside world. It was snowing. The coldness of the weather moved through my limbs, bringing me back to this new day. Lampposts were lit. Their dim light pierced through the blackness preceding the dawn and across the whiteness of the ground. I sat on the floor resting my back on the radiator. The heat was the first material gift of the day. But it could not be compared to the marvels that had filled my senses just a few minutes before. I smiled from the heart. There was something familiar about that dream: the intimacy of eternity.

As I lit a stick of incense, I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror above the fire place. Despite my bed hair and the dark circles around my eyes, I could see why men found me irresistible. That morning I also noticed something new in my features and expression; a fresh injection of Life Force had been instilled in me. This is the power that comes from the centre of the Universe. “Thank you, Life,” I said. High time was approaching to fulfil my role in the Plan, and express my True Identity. Perhaps what I was supposed to do would soon become clear.

My actions were as measured and poised as usual. Just like any other day I first went to the toilet and then stopped in the kitchen to drink a glass of hot water with lemon. I thought my flatmates would be asleep for another couple of hours. But I was surprised by a hushed rustling coming from the kitchen. Sam was already up making scrambled eggs on toast for his breakfast. The caffettiera on the stove was whistling its aromatic tune. He had exams that morning, and he was very nervous.

He lowered his eyes when he saw me. I kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his blond curls. His mind seemed miles away. I loved Sam like a brother, although he disliked my boyfriend from the start. Gordon had entered my life the year before, bringing the rough throes of his material world into my flawless, ethereal precinct. He was a professional golfer and my antithesis by all means. I was an easy prey to his chiselled looks and boyish charms because, for all my depth, I was equally vain then. I was twenty-three when we met. Much of my current wisdom was only hinted at. It often pointed me in the right direction though it still lacked the depth of experience.

Sam’s eyes were sunken and grave that morning. Did he also guess that time had come for me to embrace my role, and that I would soon leave Piper’s Crescent?

“Morning, Cassandra”, he said.

He looked very, very tired.

“Have you been up all night, Sammy boy?”

I placed my hand on his chest: his heart was racing, as I expected. He nodded and blushed, always puzzled at how easily I could touch others without announcing it. My energy made him feel calm.

“You’re a genius anyway, put those books down!”

I laughed and closed the door behind me. The house was silent apart from my footsteps on the cracking floorboards of the long, cluttered corridor. I tread carefully as I walked past Sam’s bedroom and three stacked-up bicycles. Stepping over boxes, coats and hats, I passed by Gwen’s tiny box-room, which was adjacent to my own. Ours was a typical student house. It’s still amusing to remember the contrast between the order in my room and the chaos outside it. I opened the door to my “magic bedroom.” The sweet scent of incense welcomed me in, soothing my senses and making me feel at home again. I couldn’t bear messy environments or chaotic emotions for too long: they upset my eyes and heart respectively. I needed clarity and space all around me.

My room was wide and airy, a Georgian sanctuary to my strong aesthetic sense. My bed was by the window, opposite the fireplace. The large McIntosh-like mirror made the room appear even bigger. A crystal chandelier was hung from the ceiling. Its light danced on the floor in waves that made it look like water. Shelves were stacked with books on the Knights Templar, the Theosophical Society and other esoteric traditions. I had carved out a sitting room area next to the fire place. It consisted of a settee covered by a golden Damascus throw, and a coffee table made of ivory and wooden plugs. This room was my pride and joy, my temple.