He was the CEO of a rapidly expanding investment company, Lutetia, whose head offices were in Paris. He was in town to launch the opening of the company’s Treasury in Dublin. Ireland would soon become a fiscal paradise and a blossoming economy. The eyes of the financial world would soon be glued to this country. He wanted to be among the first to capitalise on the potential. I knew about this forecast on the positive change in the Irish economy. The Masters had reassured me that it would coincide with the turn of the new Millennium and contribute to raise the frequency of the inhabitants of the Emerald Island, plagued by the ghost of limited resources for far too long.
I remarked on Harker’s particular choice of a trading name: Paris’s Latin name. I laughed as I recalled that one of the possible etymologies of the word Lutetia came from the Celtic language, and meant ‘mice’. He explained that the inspiration behind the name had actually come from the Romans. It derived from lutetium, a silvery-white rare-earth element that is exceptionally difficult to separate from the other rare-earth elements, and which is used in nuclear technology and in nuclear medicine. The name was partially in honour of the pharmaceutical giant he had led for years, before branching into the world of finance.
The man was clever and obviously very successful. I sensed that if I joined forces with this interesting entrepreneur, we could accomplish great three-dimensional deeds together. He had not informed me of the reason why he’d been meaning to contact me, so I asked him.
“I am interested in the mind control techniques you possess, and I would like you to teach them to my team in charge of developing innovative business models. I have long been toying with the idea of training my advisors in such methods. I am certain that their effect is going to be phenomenal in both business and personal terms.”
“Money has never been a motivation for me,” I said, “but just a side effect. It’s a type of energy and as such it shouldn’t be measured but channelled. To the trained mind, the Universe provides the right manifestation of energy that is required to serve a time-contingent purpose. The intention to operate for the highest good of all is what magnifies resources, including money, in one’s experience.”
“I agree,” he said. “Money isn’t my motivation either. Energy is.”
We continued our conversation in the bar of a nearby five-star hotel over a bottle of champagne. I rejoiced in the attention I was receiving from this intriguing and good-looking new entry. I had to follow my guts with this encounter. I hadn’t much of a choice anyway. My true powers, those that the ordinary world couldn’t see, had been oscillating wildly with the severance of the tie between you and me. If I thought about my past with you, our love, our work and play on the Earth and in Shambhala, the Masters and our guides, it all seemed so far away in time. Perhaps it had all been too far flung. New opportunities were opening up in front of me. My once characteristic good luck was back. So I made a firm appointment to visit the headquarters of Lutetia Investments Inc. in Paris the following week.
* * * *
Shambhala observing the same event
We had expected it all along. Cassandra was lost to the Dark Side. Her connection to the White Lodge had thinned out and eventually disappeared. Oscar had removed her, literally. Despite an initial bout of hatred against her which meant he still had intense feelings for her, the thought of her now no longer occupied his mind, and her face ended up being buried in some forgotten corner of his heart. He was now busy falling in love with Charlotte.
In the beginning he had played the part of Romeo to deflect his attention from the woman he had once loved and hurt. Foolishly, he ended up convincing himself that the love-story he’d spun was true. When Cassandra saw him parading his fiancée, he was convinced that this new girl, the girl he had met only six months previously and who had conceive so quickly was the woman of his life. Deep down in his heart, he knew that Cassandra was his true love, and that the promises he had made to her were turning to stone. One day they would wear his chest out.
Harker’s arrival introduced an extreme element of surprise that could potentially change the course of history. The Greatest Master, the King of Shambhala himself, had facilitated this twist in the plot. His intentions, however, had been kept from us. So much so that on that fateful afternoon most of us feared that the human race was beyond repair, pretty much like Cassandra and Oscar’s relationship. But in Harker’s presence, Cassandra’s powers could come to the fore again. The fact that this new acquaintance was making her think of her True Nature had not gone unnoticed. She wasn’t receiving our messages. Her last visit to Shambhala dated back to a time when she still had Oscar’s attention and love. Although she kept thinking about the Plan, her thoughts were now of the angry and rebellious type. She felt we had betrayed her. Now she would fend for herself in the world. We wanted to help her. It was impossible. A cocoon of low frequency surrounded her. We found it hard to even observe her from here. That’s why we often had to send Lady Myriam to Earth.
Sanat Kumara kept telling us to trust the process, that some things are written in stone, and they simply go off our radars only to come back and surprise us with the way they developed. We were not happy with the idea of sitting on the fence when the future of the Plan was at stake. With great reluctance we had to accept the fact that the Prince of Darkness and the Princess of Light had now met. Were we to get more involved in the activities on the three-dimensional Earth again?
We were gathered in the Lodge for the Sanat’s address.
“Dear Lady and Lord Masters,” he said, “dear Shambhalians, I was invited to speak to you in this emergency situation. Although I have often been asked to comment on the recent developments in the life of our precious Cassandra, I have always declined. This time it’s different. New events have brought a sense of urgency to the speed with which the Plan is developing. I want to keep your finger on the pulse.”
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 f
ind 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 a
ctually 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.
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