Star Woman in Love (31 page)

Invisible screens broadcast the Sanat’s speech across the Diamond City and projected his hologram in mid-air at important junctions. The Shambhalians were cramming the streets to find out about forthcoming adjustments to the Plan. The matter of Cassandra’s heartache had become pressing as the city was now split into two factions. Some feared it would take another ten thousand human years for the same evolutionary opportunity to present itself again on the Earth. Given that all lives in Shambhala were dedicated to such an occurrence, and doubt of an imminent failure had crept in, their purpose had become tarnished. This had created a domino effect as the element of defeat had entered the thought system of the Diamond City.

Shambhala’s milestone, the Diamond from which the name originates, is the idea of the Certainty of Victory. In a place where thoughts give rise to and sustain ethereal form, the element of doubt is most dangerous. In those tumultuous Earth days, the city’s Diamond had started to shake. Buildings, monuments, roads and forest were disappearing into thin air. Some of the inhabitants had also vanished as their frequency had started to lower. What would the Sanat have to say about that? Everyone wanted to know what course of action should be followed next.

“Dear friends,” the Sanat said, “let me remind you that we must have faith in the Plan, especially at a time when so many of you feel that all is lost. Where is your sense of humour, Shambhalians? Where is your imagination? You are critical of the Plan because you have started questioning yourselves. You know the rule here. There is no space for doubt. Nature doesn’t doubt. Creation doesn’t doubt. Nature and creation are real. Doubt is a lie. But if you want lies, if that’s what you feed your mind with, that’s where you’re headed: struggle as you might, the only way is downwards, back to Earth, back to the primordial egg.

For those among you who wonder where some of your fellow inhabitants have gone, let me spread some light on the mystery. The decrease in their frequency has transported them to space-time junctions where the vision of Shambhala appears distorted. Their focus is still on the Plan and evolution. They were here when they could maintain high frequencies. Now they find themselves on the Earth at particular moments in history when great shifts of consciousness were experienced on a broad scale. They are in Athens in the Age of Pericles, at the court of the De Medici in the Renaissance, inventing the wheel in Mesopotamia, erecting the Tower of Babel in the Land of Shinar, studying with Lao Tse in China during the Han Dynasty, and contributing to any of the planet’s great civilisations that marked the course of history. 

They still fulfil their roles as guides towards Ascension. They are still partaking in the Great Work, albeit from a different perspective. But the distance from where they are now and Shambhala appears to be wider. We know that’s an illusion. From their observation point, however, they don’t. They will stay there until they remember their way home.

They are in the same position as both Cassandra and Oscar: they got lost. If they follow their hearts they will find the way back Home. Signposts directing pilgrim souls Home are everywhere for those who can read them, both on Earth as well as in the sky. And now Lady Venus has a few more reassuring words for you.”

“The point I would like to make”, she said, “pertains to the 2012 Prophecy and the energy-lowering effect it has on the Earth. Let me remind you while your minds are faltering. The date is an approximation in terms of the expected transformational developments in the human race. In actual fact, it should be considered more of a signpost for those time-travellers among us who find themselves on Earth before that date. The code 21.12.2012 is the coordinate that should be entered in the time-wave compass to allow one to find the direction to our White Island first, and eventually to the New Earth. Repeating the journey back to the ‘future’ will make you see that Shambhala and the New Earth are one and the same.

My Twin Flame and I are re-introducing this information into the thought-system of our beautiful, Light-filled culture. Keep your minds on what we’ve just told you. Don’t question. Let the information sink in and take its course. The relevant events will unfold when the right opportunity presents itself. And, most importantly, ignore all the nonsense that humans have come up with to portray the world as they know it. They don’t have a clue. The world has always been perfect. Their perception is stopping them from seeing that. They think things will change at a specific date in time. No, that’s not the way things can unfold. Cassandra and the New Earth are one. When she will make peace with her past, she will change in the blink of an eye. And this will cause a chain reaction in the species, as you know. This is the Plan. She is the Plan. Remember her Star stock. Remember she is the offspring of my marriage to Sanat Kumara. We are her parents and we will never doubt her Identity. The Plan is safe here.

Finally, a word on Lucifer, whose appearance in the City was the cause of great scandal. You worry that he might lead our Cassandra astray. Let me reassure you that the opposite is true. She is taking him back Home. Everything will be revealed at the right opportunity. What is happening now is just a bit of an adventure. We’re all involved. And it might look bumpy, I agree. But why judge it? Simply sit back and enjoy the ride. Namaste.”

The transmission was over. Punctuated by the ahs and ohs of the crowds, wonder and understanding were returning to the minds of the Shambhalians. The City could go back to its business of working magic and making magic work. Doubt had been eradicated from their minds by the powerful frequency of the founders of their settlement. All was well again.

* * * *

Dublin, 14 September 1999

“Charlie, she is beautiful. You are beautiful. Thank you my love. This is the happiest day of my life.”

Oscar bent over the bed where Charlotte, his wife of two months, was lying, recovering from child-birth. He was holding their baby girl in his arms, looking every inch the proud father in awe at the miracle of life. They had called her Morwana. It had been Oscar’s nickname for Cassandra but of course he didn’t remember. The new baby was the complete antidote to any inclination he may still harbour to remember the love he once had fostered for his former girlfriend, the woman he had joined in Sacred Marriage on the enchanted White Island of Shambhala.

He was a dad now. That brought tears to his eyes. He kissed Charlotte on her cheek. The little one they had made was as cute as a button. She had cried long and hard at birth. A good pair of lungs, she had. Now she was very quiet. It looked as though she was studying her parents. She couldn’t see a thing obviously. On closest inspection of her aura we could see that she was thinking. Of course, a normal baby wouldn’t be able to do that. This newborn was anything but normal. She wasn’t Oscar and Charlotte’s baby either.

Most of us were following the scene from the Observation Room. However, Lady Myriam, Lady Portia and Lady Venus had projected their astral bodies to the ward of the Rotunda Hospital where Oscar and his family were partaking in the poetry of this beautiful, intimate moment. This newcomer was a magical child. Their parents were unaware of the portent of this bouncing baby. We were delighted with the timing of events. Just when Cassandra’s Light had dimmed while she had retracted into her cocoon to lick her wounds, another star girl had arrived on the planet. The Plan was amazing in its self-perpetrating ways.

On the same day, Cassandra was in the Four Winds hotel having just had lunch with her new mentor, who had now gone on to another appointment. Mr Harker had become a regular visitor at the Transformation Centre in the last few days. Her visit to his headquarters in Paris two week previously had proved a great success. It turned out she was a natural at developing motivational models for his staff. Inspirational words and strategies came to her out of the blue. Everyone at Lutetia Investments Inc. admired her and her style. She seemed to love the company back, especially the generosity with which they rewarded her efforts.

Cassandra was also delighted with Harker’s promise to sponsor the activities of the Transformation Movement. Lady Pinkleton’s inheritance was rapidly running out and Cassandra didn’t like to depend on her adoptive parents. The new cash injection from this eccentric and hugely successful entrepreneur was heaven-sent. It wasn’t problem-free, however. Not everyone at the Centre agreed with what they called the ‘commercialisation’ of the Movement. Even less people took a shine to Mr Harker. The widespread opinion was that he came across as too polished, too kind, and somewhat too artificial to be true. Something wasn’t gelling. Despite their reservations, they were nevertheless happy that their leader and inspiration was starting to accept the end of her relationship with Oscar and finding the strength to be the guiding light behind this important project.

Conor, Oscar’s brother, was among those who were sceptical of Harker’s generosity. In the Rotunda Hospital, as he was waiting for a nurse to take him to see his newborn niece, his suspicions turned to downright puzzlement.

“Fancy meeting you here!”

Conor was sitting next to his mother in the visitors’ room with three gift bags lying at his feet. The reason of his surprise was the arrival in the hall of a gentleman holding a big bunch of white roses and balloons. When Conor greeted him in a slightly too hostile manner, his mother turned to look at him with a scolding expression. The Englishman approached them.

“I told you before you can call me Bob. Robert Harker, madam, nice to meet you. And congratulations.”

“Well, Bob then, isn’t it a coincidence to meet you here in a maternity hospital? I didn’t know a high-flying tycoon like yourself could make the time for trivialities such as the birth of a baby?”

“Indeed, it is the same baby who brings us here, Conor. I don’t know if you know that I’m also a father: I have young daughter, Vanessa. Children are the greatest gift. And of course, congratulations on becoming an uncle. It’s by wonderful chance that I’m in town at the time when your brother’s wife, Charlotte, who used to work for me in the past, has given birth to their first child. She was my Personal Assistant before she moved to Dublin to improve her English. Though her whirlwind romance with the famous artist Oscar O’Leary must have cut her linguistic efforts short,” he laughed.

“I actually know Charlotte very well, though I’ve not seen her in months. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with her before but my visits to Dublin have always been jam-packed with business meetings, or with Cassandra’s ideas. I guess today is too important to bypass it with an excuse.”

Conor was far from satisfied with this explanation. This new revelation had made him wonder if both Harker’s befriending Cassandra and Charlotte’s seduction of Oscar were more than mere coincidences.

“How did you find out that Charlotte gave birth this morning, then?”, Conor said. “It’s not been leaked out to the press yet. Only close family know. And Charlotte has no family, so that means only my family know.”

“Marion, my wife, is a good friend of Charlotte’s,” Harker replied. “They keep in regular touch. I never mentioned it because I didn’t want to upset Cassandra, but Charlotte and my wife are like sisters.”

That was the piece of information Conor needed to confirm that all the concerns he had held about Harker had a real foundation.

* * * *

Paris, October 2000

With Robert’s help, the Transformation Movement was reinstated to its former glory and grew rapidly into a network of branches disseminated across the world. At the turn of the new Millennium my focus had shifted from letting the Light direct the changes in my body, to learning to use my mind to control my physical abilities. The years we had shared seemed to belong to another lifetime. You still lived at the house we had bought together in Dun Laoghaire and which we still co-owned. You were married now, playing happy families. The international press didn’t take long to notice how uninspired and unproductive you had turned since becoming a father.

Morwana, your baby girl, took up most of your time. The joy she brought you was the purest love you had felt in your life after me. You wanted to give her the childhood you had been deprived of. I once saw a picture of you pushing a pram in a gossip magazine. You looked radiant, as you did in our best moments together. Deep down, I was happy for you. I was even secretly proud that you were embracing your role as a father so wholeheartedly. However, I always forced myself not to think about you for more than a couple of seconds. That’s as little as it would take the greatest sadness to come back and remind me you could have been my baby’s father. Mind-control techniques came to the rescue every time.

Matt’s tenderness also deflected my attention from the hurt buried in my past. I had moved on. It was impossible to say exactly when I realised I was over you, or if I ever was. With Harker as my financial mentor, my life had become a money-generating whirlwind. I channelled any maternal instinct I still harboured into charity work. Everything happened so fast. I was a world-scale celebrity again, while you had become a househusband. I was dating a glamorous rock star. Your wife was young and totally anonymous.

Conor didn’t like her. Charlotte was immature beyond her years, in his opinion. Apparently, she did and said everything just to please you. Indeed, he relayed, she was emulating you. In her insecurity, she even tried to style herself on me, to please you. According to your brother, she was trying too hard. I searched the Internet to find some information about her. Zilch. You never talked about her in interviews. Recently, you were not even talking in public anymore. On those rare times I saw her photograph in a magazine, I was reassured that I was much better looking. Eventually, any interest I had in finding out about her disappeared.