I didn’t understand much of what was being related to me. The room started to spin around me and I fainted. The next thing I saw was your face. I was in your arms. I forgot many things in that moment. They would come back when the time was right. I reassured you I felt better already, and blamed my swooning on low blood pressure. The truth, however, was that my mind was expanding and processing Light much faster than my body could at the time. Dinner-time soon brought us back to reality, and to that gentle agony called falling in love.
* * * *
Dublin, 16 December 1993 - part one
I’d been in Ireland for two weeks. Although we lived together, nothing had yet happened between us. Not that the tension wasn’t there, or our hearts weren’t hoping we would get down to some action between the sheets. But somehow we kept our urges to ourselves. When we hugged and walked hand in hand, we always tried not to give into our sexual needs. It had worked so far and no physical interaction had really taken place. It was odd, to say the least, and very difficult, given you were a 28-year-old, hot-blooded male, and I was a 25-year-old healthy young woman. But there was more to us than meets the eye.
Finally the sexual tension became almost palpable, to the point where we were beginning to feel awkward about it and would flee from any possible temptation. Like one night when you were sitting next to me on the sofa while we were watching the telly. It was particularly cold. You threw a blanket over us. Only our faces were sticking out. Protected by the privacy of the woolly cover, your hands started caressing my legs under the blanket. At first I froze. Then I turned to you to hug you. That cut your attempt short. We kept watching telly but I could feel your energy beside me, all pent up like a pressure cooker. I had already learned how to recognise your erections from sensing your energy. They made the atoms in and around you dance to the Sound of Creation, hitting the targets of my heart and my womb in perfect unison.
Another night you came back late from a rendezvous with fellow artists. I was in my bed, fast asleep when I detected your presence in my room. You were drunk and free from inhibitions. By then you were coming to the end of your tether. You wanted to make love to me. Your loins were on constant alert for the opportunity. I opened my eyes and saw your silhouette against the light from the corridor. You came in. I could feel your hunger for me: it woke me up and was starting to draw me in. I could have told you to stay. But our Union wasn’t meant to happen randomly. All I could do was whisper: “Goodnight, Oscar. It’s late: go to bed.” Another opportunity had been offered to me only to go out of the window and disappear into nothingness. Creatures like us are meant to mate only under special circumstances. There is always more to sex than meets the eye. Nevertheless, my womanly side was longing for physical love.
Finally the right time arrived for our first sexual merge. Our bodies would join, at last, a couple of weeks of longing later. The moon was full that night. It was mid-December, the sixteenth day of the month to be precise. I had just started my PhD at the country’s oldest college. I walked through the University grounds breathing in the cold and staring at the sky. The perfection of creation was obvious everywhere I looked. Magic seemed palpable. An ancient memory was stirring inside me from a time without time, from a place far away. I was in love and I knew that you loved me. Wholeness was calling us.
That afternoon I had left you a message in the kitchen before going out to work. My note was on the table with two rose quartzes on top of it. I wanted you to find it on your return home from a couple of days in the country. You had gone on a walkabout with a friend of yours who was over from Australia. I loved the way you had friends from all over the world, and how you referred to everybody as ‘my friend’. As soon as you found my note, you phoned me. I was in the middle of the lecture I was giving on Norman Ireland. The hall was full of inquisitive students. My mobile rang. Normally I would keep it on silent. But I was expecting your call. A whirlwind of joy danced in my chest the moment I saw your name appear on the display. I apologised to my students and dashed out to take your call. Your voice made me happy the second I heard it.
“Cassie, I’m back. Got your message. I’m going to come over to Maynooth to collect you from work. I’ll meet you at the main gate at seven. We can go for a drink and then back home. I need to see you. I’ve missed you loads...”
You said all these words in one breath.
“Missed you too, Ozzie,” I said. “See you later then.”
There was sweetness in our voices I had never heard before. We were turning to gold as the Light in both of us was rising simultaneously. We were approaching our Intimate Encounter. Everything and everybody pointed to that direction. All we had to do was to go with the flow. Time itself had started to befriend us. It was impossible to resist the attraction of the love intertwining our souls. It finally felt right, and it would be easy too.
* * * *
Shambhala’s Observation Centre monitoring Ireland,
16 December 1993
Earlier that day we had decided to follow Oscar and his friends on their way to the Hill of Uisneach. We observed him and the two other men as they climbed up the hill and through the fields to reach the Cat’s Stone. Their pace was solemn and their gaze focused. They were visiting the sacred site that marks the centre of Ireland, both geographically and spiritually. Uisneach is the mystical navel of the land, the heart chakra of the country. The two men who accompanied Oscar in this shamanic mission were Shane O’Halloran, a world-famous Australian musician of Irish descent, and Peadar Ó Caoinmh, an emerging young artist from Cork. Oscar called them his brothers.
The three lads were carrying frame drums, sage leaves and prayer stones on their trail. They were ready to enter another dimension. A soft mist emerged from the ground. They would soon embark on a journey into Dreamtime Ireland, in the realms of Ériu, the ancient goddess who gave the country its name. She was the daughter of Emmas of the Tuatha Dé Danann. The Tuatha were the ‘people of the goddess Dana’, a clan of divine stock who are considered, in legendary terms, to be the fifth race of people to settle into Ireland. Shamans like Oscar are fully aware of the symbolism in mythological stories. These tales belong to the Dreamtime, a time out of time where the geological features of the land are at one with the stories being told. Many shamans and artists, however, are not aware that they are in fact the modern-day descendants of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and that fairy blood runs through their veins.
The three men reached the Stone and prepared a bonfire. Drumming and chanting, they invoked the four directions, the above and the below, and all of their ancestors and descendants. Sage was burnt as they wove slow dances around the flame. They put the stones they carried, one for each prayer they were sending to the Sky and the Earth, in a pile or cairn. Then Shane rolled a joint of Tibetan hashish. It would help them get the vision they needed. The smoke from the fire and the mist from the ground made the air thick and white.
A rolling mist descended onto the top of the hill, and down to the road where they had parked their car. Invisible Beings gathered behind the Cat’s Stone creating a vortex to open a portal to the fourth dimension. Stories and dreams from this dimension could now filter through the Veil of Forgetfulness and manifest soon into the lives of Cassandra and Oscar, and the whole planet at large. Spirit guides, animal totems, fairies and archetypes could move across the two dimensions more freely. A Magical Birth was quickening: many higher Beings didn’t want to miss it.
The energy was impetuous and pulsating. The beating of the drums grew louder and faster. More creatures filtered in: devas, fairies, genies, spirit guides, masters and ancestors. Oscar could see them, and not for the first time. The men stretched their arms out, shaking their hands as if they were turning into eagles ready to fly. Oscar fell on his knees, and then collapsed on the ground with both his hands on his chest and his face in a grimace. He was in pain and he was possessed. A giant lizard materialised out of nowhere and landed on his leg, protecting the young man and raising his frequency. The seizu
re subsided and finally disappeared. Oscar opened his eyes and saw Peadar and Shane who were lying on the ground, contemplating the blue vaults above them.
* * * *
Dublin, 16 December 1993 - part two
The moon was big and ripe in the evening sky. A host of stars punctuated the darkest climes. You were standing by the gate, leaning on a lamppost. Your heart was so bright it could have lit up the night. I gave you a quick peck on the cheek and jumped into your car. Your frame drum was on the back seat with bundles of sage and an open map. We drove in silence for a few miles and stopped near a small pub. We entered. The usual punters turned their heads and stared. Greetings were exchanged. We ordered Guinness and sat at a table by the fire. I was ecstatic.
You talked a lot in that pub.
“The night before my father’s death four years ago,” you said, “he’d stormed off to a pub. My mum went looking for him. And just as well she did. They had an argument that night, that’s why he’d gone out drinking, as usual. Normally she would hold a grudge and nag constantly the day after. But that night she just wanted peace. She wanted to be with the man who had been her husband for all those years... Her alcoholic husband but her husband nonetheless... So she collected dad from the pub, took him home, undressed him and helped him get into bed. He mumbled while falling asleep. She wrapped herself around him like a young bride.
She woke up early the following morning and brushed a kiss on his forehead. He opened his eyes to greet her with a smile. “I’ll make breakfast”, she said before rushing downstairs to the kitchen. Scrambled eggs and mushrooms fried in the pan, bacon and rashers turned brown in the grill. She wanted to start afresh. I know my mum. She hoped that day could mark a healthy, new beginning. They could do it. They had a great life together, two wonderful sons, and they were wealthy and loved. Dad’s problem was cultural more than personal, she kept telling herself. It didn’t have deep roots. It could be eradicated easily, that very day.
So, breakfast was on the table. She called dad. No answer. She went upstairs to wake him up: he might have fallen asleep again, she thought. She collapsed to the floor when she reached the bedroom and realised that he was dead. He was only fifty-six. He had died suddenly one winter morning. Heart attack. He had let her down until the very end. How could she tell me and my brother now? Conor was in England and I was in America. Dad was dead and the last time I had seen him we argued so badly that mum almost called the gardaí. By the end of the day I had boarded a plane from New York. Shock, sadness and guilt accompanied me back to Ireland, to my father’s funeral. And these emotions haven’t left me since...”
You went silent. The fire crackled in the hearth. You took another long sip of your pint of Guinness and stared at me. The sadness of your loss felt as if were my own. A new concept, this was. I couldn’t quite tell where your feelings ended and mine began. Our life-stories had similar distressing milestones.
“Families...,” I said, “are built to cause us so much pain... but they can teach us a lot about ourselves...”
My family history was one of tragedy too. I didn’t tell you then. My biological dad had disappeared when I was six. Mum found it hard to live without him. To make things worse, I reminded her of him. She took her life by the time I was seven. Depression ran in her blood-line. Although I was a child, I knew that was an accident waiting to happen, whose course I couldn’t change. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to cry much when she died. I needed more peaceful surroundings to grow into my True Nature. It was part of the Plan.
But I had invisible friends who protected me from despair. The idea of ‘family’ had a broader meaning to me. I didn’t understand ‘lack of love’ anyway. Mum and dad’s love would be replaced, upgraded. Love can’t be captured by a face or a name. It’s one’s birth-right. I had to let it flow through other channels. I was adopted by Lord Ralph and Lady Henrietta Hughes when I was seven and a half, having spent six months in foster care. My adoptive parents honoured a promise they had made to my mother, who had been a close friend of theirs. They had been acting as my custodians throughout mum’s illness anyway.
I couldn’t reveal any of that in the pub that night. I was captivated by your story, in awe of the pain you still held in your heart for the loss of your father. You somehow felt responsible for his death. You had disappointed him. Your guilt and sense of hopelessness made me want to join you that night. I was sure, more than ever before, that I could fill the gap in your life and soul. I was meant to give you my love, and make you feel complete again. The kiss of eternity was soon to be placed on your lips, and the Life Force would erupt through our joined limbs into our climax. I could already taste our togetherness: it filled the air. You were the son of despair and I was a strange daughter of joy. Like gazing at myself in the mirror, I could see my exact opposite in you. The moon was magnetic that night, that’s true. And so was I.
I stood up and let you help me put my coat on. “Let’s go home.”
We drove back into the night and to our house. Stars were out in their myriads and the night was inky and wondrous. I sat on the sofa in the sitting room and you tended to the flame in the fireplace. Then you came over to me and went down on your knee. You took my hands and put them to your forehead.
“Please, Cassandra...,” you said.
And I gave in.
We climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I sat on the bed and looked at you with solemn eyes. I still had to keep some boundaries in place.
“No kisses and no penetration, Oscar.”
You nodded and looked stellar in your lust. The room was dimly lit.
“Do you want the lights off?,” you said.
We kept the lamp on the bedside table on. An army of genies, fairies, spirits and higher Beings positioned themselves around the bed. Dark forces were also there, lurking in a corner, stretching their shadowy fingers towards our hearts. We didn’t notice them. We had reached the edge of eternity: we were about to cross over to a point from which it was impossible to return. Our merge was imminent.
I felt as if I was suspended in mid-air, lying in bed wearing only my knickers. You were already naked. You looked vulnerable and hero-like at the same time. For the first of many times to come, I laid my eyes on your penis, charged as it was with the Life Force. I leaned forward and kissed its tip. I fell in love with your manhood immediately. You blushed as you touched me, caressing my breasts and hips.
Rapture emerged from under my skin, from recesses I’d not yet explored in the flesh. As you pressed your body onto mine, your hair fell on my face. We gazed at each other long and hard, without saying a word. Our breaths, inhaled and exhaled in synch, were the only sound. Your hands were marking the territory you had toiled to own. Now it was yours, forever. You could take your time, exploring my body with your fingertips and tongue. I surrendered to you completely. I lost myself in you that very night.
“Can I take your knickers off, now?”
“Yes...”
You kissed your way down to my vagina, tickling the labia with your stubble, suckling on my clitoris, licking your soul into my orgasm. Shivers of pleasure ran through my nerves and to my brain. Fireworks exploded in my womb. Somewhere else in space and time a wild star was born to the makings of our love. I felt it in your heartbeat and I saw it in your eyes: a New Era had started.
Chapter 6
WOUNDED
______________
Dublin, 16-17 December 1993 – part three
The night when I first lay in your arms I didn’t get much sleep. I kept watch over you. Having merged, I was now weary of the fear which surrounded you like a cocoon. I kept my focus on the love we shared but the shadow still lingered in the background. I had to protect you. What from, I wasn’t sure. The room was full of spirits from the fourth dimension. Some came from the Light while others served the Darkness. We would never be alone from that point onward. The changes starting in my cells, and their polar opposites’ projection on you, would automatically attract the attent
ion, and hence the presence, of other realms. As more Light was coming through me, more darkness would descend upon and inside you. I knew you needed much help throughout the process. If you truly were the one, and this really was the time, the shift would be relentless.
I was afraid those changes in me would come about too quickly for you to get your mind around them. As far as I could remember, I had always understood that being human was just a transitional phase. It was obvious in me, though not many did yet grasp the fact that humanity is in a transformative stage. The species is becoming a far more advanced life form. Humans are programmed to become more evolved creatures as a result of human and stellar cross-fertilising. The possibility of transmuting into Light-filled Beings underlines every human cell. The Masters’ Plan involves helping a portion of humanity to go through this evolutionary re-birth. Shamans, artists, psychologists and spiritual teachers are the midwives of this new race and will be the first to transform.
My role in the Plan was to kick-start the transmutation process. The cells in my body would learn to vibrate to the sound of the wholeness that permeates the entire galaxy. The matter that formed my body would become more refined. Eventually there would be more space between particles (as more particles dissolved into space), and more Light would be able to travel through my body. My mind would then direct the newly shaped vessel through pure thought guided solely by the heart, the seat of the soul, and not by the ego. By resonance, the rest of the species could start to tune into my cellular transmutation, because the sound of the cells vibrating in unison is both powerful and contagious. As more and more people would tune into my frequency, the same process I would have undergone would be initiated in their bodies, and those of their offspring.
The process in humans is similar to that of a caterpillar growing into a butterfly. At the biological level, its metamorphosis is driven by a new group of cells, the imaginal cells, which suddenly manifest in the creature. They start to appear in the system following a signal, or a frequency, emitted by the heart. What lepidopterists don’t know is that this frequency is the frequency of love. Caterpillars intuit that this love is the product of surrendering to the law of nature. The frequency of love underpins all of creation but many living species have become deaf to it. Not so the caterpillars, whose hearts are in tune with creation.
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