The Cosmic Logos

by Traci Harding

  His wife, Candace, entered his office carrying afternoon tea on a tray, looking more beautiful than ever, and Brian’s spirits immediately lifted. He realised how preoccupied he still was with material pleasures and if this meant that his conscious perspective was focused in Kila’s physical realms for a while longer, then so be it in his opinion — Brian could only be happy about that.

  Bast tracked Horace down at the Institute of Immortal History, where he had begun a course in cosmology as part of the term of his sentence for Lahmu.

  The one-time outlaw was seated in the beautiful, stepped courtyard of the Institute and was studying alone, a thought recorder in one hand as he jotted notes on a pad.

  ‘You can just record your notes on another orb,’ Bast offered her advice. ‘On windy days thought recorders don’t blow away.’

  Horace appeared to be disconcerted by her visit, although he raised his ageing bones to greet her, as was polite. ‘To what do I owe this honour?’

  Bast sat down to give Horace his leave to sit. ‘I never got a chance to thank you for speaking up for us back on the Aten. You really saved our butts.’

  ‘You represented the first real shot my people ever had to escape the nightmare we created for ourselves.’ Horace planted himself down again. ‘We should have seen that twenty years ago when everybody else did.’ He looked out over the sparsely populated courtyard to avoid eye contact with Bast, and she got the distinct impression that she made him uncomfortable.

  ‘Any plans as to what you’re going to do after you finish your service on Kila?’ She kept the conversation light.

  Horace suppressed a laugh. ‘Like you’re interested.’

  ‘Why would I be here, if I wasn’t?’ Bast retorted, gently.

  ‘A very good question.’ Horace grabbed his study tools and stood. ‘Why are you here, highness? If this is some sort of power trip for you, then, please forgive my bluntness, the last thing I need right now is a tease.’ He turned and walked off.

  Bast was gobsmacked a second and was tempted to retaliate. But then she had to ask herself why his comment had riled her so — could it be that he could see right through her? Was she just teasing him? As she watched him walk away, determined not to chase him, the words of En Noah’s prophecy sounded in her mind. True happiness lies with a man that you will have to pursue. Bast gasped, reminding herself of all Horace had been through in his life and of all he was still sorting through. ‘I see.’ She stood and spoke up. ‘You’ll talk about the welfare of your people, but when the opportunity to take action tries to present itself, you’ll turn your back on it.’

  Horace stopped in his tracks and did an about-face. ‘You’re here to offer me a job?’ All the colour drained from his face as Bast nodded and he realised his grievous error. ‘I am so sorry —’

  ‘Forget it.’ Bast waved off his discomfort. ‘I was coming here to seduce you also, but, as you’re obviously not going to buy into that, I thought I’d just stick to the job offer, for now.’

  Horace had to assume she was joking to make him feel better and he cracked an uncomfortable smile.

  ‘But if you can’t stand the thought of working with a tease then …’ Bast gave a sigh of regret, ‘I’ll have to find somebody else with your mature outlook and first-hand knowledge of the history of your kindred.’

  Horace thought this a nice way of referring to his old age. ‘What is the job?’

  ‘Well, I figured that there are representatives of your kindred on every planet they might wish to take up residence on. Gazelle is on Tarazean, Cordella is on Lura … but there is no one to represent your people on my home planet, Nugia,’ Bast outlined in a professional manner. ‘I feel sure father would permit you to serve your term in Nugia’s service, especially as it would be to the future benefit of your people. I can tutor you in the ways of the Chosen, and you can advise me on how best to integrate your people into Leonine society.’

  Horace had never felt honoured before — Bast could have picked any one of seventy other members of his kindred for the position. An emotional lump welled in Horace’s throat which made it difficult to speak. ‘It is my greatest wish —’ He choked on his emotion and so left it at that.

  ‘Mine, too.’ Bast slapped her hands together, pleased to have achieved her objective — Horace wouldn’t have that dark cloud over his heart for very much longer.

  The tunnel of rainbow fire, formed by the synthesis of the divine rays within the soul-mind, dispersed into a white light mass.

  Azaz’el?

  The name stirred many memories of study and service, but only fragments. No recollection was completely stable. They just presented themselves and then vanished into the recesses of the soul-mind’s foggy consciousness.

  I think our fearless leader is nearly with us.

  Well, praise the Logos for that. We can finally get on.

  The soul-mind became aware of floating in a chamber, his form contained within a shaft of light. Beyond the lightbeam floated three other beings: two of rainbow fire, and the other an ascended master still employing a subtle human form. This being moved closer and with a wave of his index finger the barricade of light between them vanished.

  Welcome home, Azaz’el, said the master, and the other two beings echoed the sentiment. How was your trip?

  Djwhal Khul? The soul-mind recognised the master. My trip? Azaz’el dwelt on this idea for a moment and was bombarded with a string of earth memories. It was successful, I hope? Azaz’el realised that the master was in a far better position to answer that question.

  Hell yes, it was a success, Sammael confirmed enthusiastically, when the other fiery being with him, who Azaz’el had known as Noah, Selwyn and the Sage of Eridu, corrected Sammael: We don’t use the ‘H’ word any more … let’s not tempt fate.

  A thousand apologies, Armaros, Sammael granted. I’m just a bit excited at the prospect of working on a new enterprise.

  Azaz’el was preoccupied with the architecture of the chamber in which they stood. It was more colourful, light-filled and impossible than anything on earth — and hauntingly familiar, with its tall, spiralling columns. These appeared not unlike glimmering, ivy-bound trees whose branches unfolded at the top to support the ceiling. At the foot of the column, roots spread across the ground and disappeared into the floor. The beam of light that had surrounded Azaz’el upon arrival here was simply the point of entry to the celestial city, and this beautiful chamber was the entrance foyer.

  Seeing this place brought the situation into focus for Azaz’el. So the damage done to human consciousness has been righted? Azaz’el sought verification before getting too excited.

  The master nodded. The Sanat Kumara awaits you in the Great Council chamber to welcome you home, and his great city is open to you once more.

  This was very uplifting news.

  You have gone where most angels fear to tread, and although it may have been done as a punishment, your deeds have taught us much and did advance the human consciousness experiment with the advent of the other human tribes.

  Bonus points! Sammael clenched a fist and raised it in a gesture of might.

  We have been recalled to cosmic service, Armaros further enlightened, appearing very pleased about the event.

  Sirius, here we come. Sammael did a little dance.

  So, the split soul principle worked? Azaz’el figured. Our female halves kept our male halves on the straight and narrow.

  Azaz’el recalled that this had been the only condition of earth life that had bothered the Grigori — splitting their soul-minds into male and female aspects before entering the human consciousness stream.

  And continues to work, Armaros stated surely.

  The fact was most amusing to his associates as well. The Great Lodge knew exactly what they were doing, Sammael granted. You think they would have risked sending us down without a sound contingency plan for getting us back?

  I found the whole double perspective experience to be most beneficial. Armaros offe
red his view.

  Yes, Azaz’el smiled fondly at the memories, it was rather wonderful. I could even venture to say I might miss it.

  Oh, I just love it when the plan comes together. DK slapped his hands together, delighted by their banter.

  Azaz’el cocked an eye, curious about the master’s enthusiasm. Why? What has the Logos in mind for us next?

  That will be your choice, of course, DK assured.

  Uh-huh. Azaz’el suppressed his amusement. I’ve heard that one before.

  Understanding the jest, DK only smiled. Join us in the Great Council chamber at your leisure. You will be updated with the current state of the plan and all your questions will be answered.

  Azaz’el nodded, knowing that it was not the master’s place to answer such questions.

  We have missed you, Azaz’el, and your minions, DK said, before leaving. It is a joy to see you returned to us a wiser and happier soul.

  It is a joy to be thus. Azaz’el and the master bowed to each other and Djwhal Khul departed.

  My friends. Azaz’el turned to Armaros and Sammael. Where are the rest of us?

  They are awaiting our debriefing in the ante-chamber of the Great Council of the Sanat Kumara, Armaros informed.

  You could say they are chomping at the bit to find out what our future prospects are, so, we shouldn’t keep them waiting, Sammael advised. They’ll be real glad to see you, just as I am.

  Ditto, Armaros smiled.

  Azaz’el nodded to confirm he felt the same. We did well and have learned much. But I think that from now on, it would serve us better to have a little more patience and just stick to the plan.

  His associates wholeheartedly agreed.

  Epilogue

  ‘The End.’ What a ridiculous term. It sounds so final and yet according to esoteric doctrine it is redundant. For nothing ever really ends or dies, it just changes form.

  The first question my readers will ask is — is that the last we shall ever see of Tory and Maelgwn? And the honest response is … you never can tell. Still, the writer feels that there are other muses with amazing tales to tell and wisdom to teach, who have already been put on hold for too long.

  Will the writer be sad to see these characters go?

  Absolutely — but without change there can be no growth. When I think about all that these characters have taught me in the seven or so years we have spent together, my mind boggles! They have literally changed the way I live my life and view the world. They have led me to eras, places and people who have had a profound effect on my life and my career, including my latest chance encounter.

  One morning early this July I awoke, made a cup of tea and went to check my email, as per usual. Only with this morning’s email came a message from the ascended Master Djwhal Khul (DK) which had been committed to email through a spiritual teacher in Australia (the Reverend). The Reverend had aided me with some esoteric research I’d been needing to complete this last book of the triad. I consider the Reverend to be a trustworthy source, being that he is to be a guest speaker at the forthcoming (Western) Wesak celebration, held every year in California, and is to be the vessel for the Master Rakoczi at the holy assembly.

  Djwhal now here, at your service beloved.

  To really walk the talk so to speak, we must all find the time to nurture the innerness that is the GOD Within amidst the activities of the form life. Only the negative ego will try to tell you otherwise. The conscious communion with the stillness of the wordless realities of the inner planes can only serve to make the whole book creation process more refined, efficient and joyous. So we offer to assist you to deepen your inner connection, to allow you to flow more with our guidance and our love, for we see that your medium for expressing a greater reality within the written word will serve to gently generate interest in growth, the Masters, and the Path of Ascension. Yet the ego places feelings of unpreparedness, or busyness, or unworthiness as a barrier to further expansion. To relieve yourself of such unnecessary obstacles and have made known that which is currently veiled, you must remove the veils, we will assist, but you must perform within thyself, the necessary alignment and attunement to approach us. So meditation is the key, and we know that you are able to do so or we would not have suggested this, for to have done so would be to disempower which is not our style of doing things. So remove potential distractions, prepare a sacred space wherein you feel ‘safe’, ask for my protection and guidance, be ‘heart open’ and follow the procedure that the Reverend shared. Be without expectation, simply know that the inspiration will come. It is TIME!

  Blessings of abundance to you in this most exciting time in your world’s history and heart.

  I AM Djwhal Khul.

  I have read enough of DK’s books to know this master when I read him, and yet my mind would not accept that this could be happening to me. You’re being had, I decided, or at least it was easier to believe that.

  A reader, who was a close personal friend of the Reverend, had been the one to put me in touch with him. Hence, I wrote a letter to the reader who’d been the catalyst in this affair, voicing my reserve about this correspondence. The reader replied to say that she’d received several emails from Masters via the Reverend and understood that I might be doubtful. She suggested that I might like to do a weekend workshop with the Reverend and decide for myself if he was legitimate? I have never been a good pupil, as I’ve always been a self-teach kind of girl. The reader cum go-between then reminded me that even Tory Alexander had a Merlin to guide her.

  Trying to decide whether or not to take up the offer, threw me into complete turmoil and I could not sleep that night — for hours I pondered these events unfolding in my life. When my clairvoyant had said that ‘I could not possibly predict where this story would lead,’ I had assumed he’d been referring to my characters, not me! The meditation the Reverend had given me to do to inspire the information for the scene I’d been having trouble with, worked like a charm. Still, having been a visionary all my life, I wondered how to define the difference between my own imagination and divine inspiration? Was it the same thing? It came from the same source. I’d always said that it felt like I was merely taking dictation when I wrote.

  When I first started writing The Ancient Future I asked myself the question, ‘If an ascended Master opened a door for you, would you step through it?’ I’d always fancied that my answer would be ‘yes’. Now here I was being offered the chance to become the heroine I’d so long admired. Would Tory have walked away from this challenge? I thought not. A million reasons why I couldn’t take up the offer raced through my mind and yet every time I considered declining, my heart felt like it was breaking. When I considered doing as my reader had suggested, my heart settled and felt at ease. By 2.30 in the morning I decided ‘What the hell!’ The tossing and turning was driving me nuts! What kind of writer would I be if I did not investigate this for myself? My readers had often asked me if my tales were all true — well, there was only one way to find out.

  The following morning this email from the Reverend awaited me.

  Greetings my friend!

  So your world is somehow new again, I sense your wonder and the wondrousness of the answering of your call for awakening. Yet the activity of the ego and its analysing mind nags with its fears of loss of control. There is no judgement, there is only love and a longer or a shorter journey home. Are you ready for the express ride? Ask and you shall receive. When the pupil is ready, the Master appears. This is your time, if you but choose.

  much Love, your friend and spiritual brother

  Well, I was gobsmacked, especially when I noted the time that the email had been sent: 02:29:01. The Reverend knew the exact moment I’d decided to take him up on his offer. And in typical Cosmic Logos style, I’d been given proof of the master’s abilities after I had decided to leap into the void and not before. Even my husband had been interstate the previous night, thus no living soul knew about my late night of procrastination or my resolve. When I’d been
tossing and turning over what to do, my cynical mind had wondered if the Reverend knew the turmoil he’d thrown my being into. Judging from this turn of events, it would seem so. Not to mention that practically every statement in the email was a line straight out of my books, and I knew for a fact that the Reverend had never read any of my work. This was enough to convince me that the universe was definitely supporting my decision to go do this weekend workshop.

  Thus, two weeks later, I headed off to an unfamiliar city, alone, to meet up with people I’d only known via email and do a course with a fellow I’d never met. What’s more, I felt incredibly good about this, which in itself was a miracle. The wondrousness of the cosmos that I’d so missed, locked in my office writing away for six years, was making itself felt once more.

  I once heard a quote, ‘Write and you don’t live, live and you don’t write.’ I considered this an accurate summation of my time as an author, up until this point. For a change, it was me who was off on a little adventure and, although my deadline was fast approaching, I decided that my characters could put their lives on hold for a change.

  I hinted at what was unfolding in my life to the wonderful readers who have been frequenting the Message Board on my website. Little do they know that the reader-go-between that started me on this roller-coaster ride has been chatting with them too (I bet they can guess who). It is amazing to hear their stories about strange occurrences in their lives, sudden bursts in awareness, and how many of them have dreamt about these tales. It seems that the more honest I am about the bizarre events of my life, the more open others are to talk about their experiences and impressions. I love that my readers now have an outlet to discover that they are not weird, or nut cases, if they have seen a ghost, someone’s aura or felt at one with the infinite — strange and wonderful stuff happens to everyone, not just those of us who get to write about it … praise the universe for that!