Star Woman in Love

by Piera Sarasini

  The previous night she had written a letter to him for the first time in all the years since they had parted. Magne was away on business and she was alone in the house. The full moon was high in the sky and she couldn’t get to sleep. Something was missing, and she knew what it was. She missed the years gone by. She missed the lover from her past who still roamed her heart. She put pen to paper and wrote to Oscar for a while. The letter she produced was lying on the kitchen table, next to the guest list she was also drafting. Would she ever send it to him? Would he ever receive it?

  This is what it said:

  My dear and only love, where are you tonight? The gaping hole in my heart is so conspicuous and alive, it wants to swallow me… the Hunger Moon is in the sky and it’s no time for hunting. Yet I’m searching my heart for little snippets of memories, of moments with you. Foolish, I know, but I miss you. I guess I’ll be looking for you forever. This is what it feels like. My heartbeat is faint: finding you again is the reason for my life. They tell me otherwise, and sometimes I doubt it. What’s Peter Pan without his shadow, Tinkerbell without her Peter… what a concussion of emotions, what numbness in my face, deprived as it is of the smile you brought to it so effortlessly… a vacuum in my gaze… the widest space in my bed despite the tender company I keep there...

  My beautiful love, I can’t keep treating you like this, like some missing part in me that can be substituted with a spare. I want to try, I do my best to try but it doesn’t work. How can I believe that I could allow someone else who only fits the description from the outside, take your place… the place of my primal lover of those nights of passion, when we brought Heaven to Earth, between my legs and in my arms… I still feel confused about the way we ended it, the way we parted. Did we even say goodbye? I don’t remember... I’m not supposed to think about you and yet I do. How do I handle you in absentia? How can I avoid the rapture of madness, the pangs of longing that tear my lonely limbs apart… I try not to listen to them, but I always fail in my attempts.

  I gaze at the night-time sky and think of you. I look at the brightest star and know it’s you. I can only remember you with love… on a night like tonight…

  What part of me are you, my sweet one? How does it feel to be you? What are you feeling at your core? What gentleness and tenderness lie at the foundation of your magnificent being? Why do I sense such a void in your soul… sadness, despair, loneliness... do you miss me? I miss you like I’d miss my heart if they tore it out of my chest… I often don’t want to face up to the fact that my life without you feels meaningless... But something’s pushing me to confess that I really miss you tonight.

  Do you still wonder what part of you I reflect, which part of you I am? What if feels to be me? And if you know that, would you please remind me? I was love to you... only love... do you remember the look in my eyes when I stared at your naked body, your gentle features, the wave of your hair. You looked so innocent... My eyes were too small to let all that beauty sink in… as we spent moments, my dear one, in a bed worn-out by so much night-time activity and the sleep of angels… you wished me to sleep with the angels… the gentle angel that you can be, that you are…

  I guess I want to retrieve you because I have forgotten you, and with you I have forgotten my True Self. I fell from grace, in actual fact. I loved your form far too much: to the point of becoming a fallen angel in my little Eden… I wonder how you are tonight, my majesty, my king, my darling lover. Because it feels like you’re standing next to me, begging me to take you back.

  My dear one, you are the happiest hour of my physical life, the sweetest breath I ever exhaled, the sweetest kiss I ever received. I come alive at the simple thought of being in your arms again, hearing your honey-sweet voice, a bee to a flower I am. I refuse to let you go. More the opposite, I call you back into my life. I come to you. Again.

  In love and Light I remain your Bride.

  How could she possibly still be thinking about Oscar? Her frequency was now so high it was very difficult for her to detect him. Two separate worlds had been created by their rift. Yet the two ex-lovers could still bridge the divide between them and meet from time to time in their thoughts. We did not expect that. We had to keep close watch again, lest we lose Cassandra’s heart to Oscar’s nightmares. Cassandra’s heart was the bridge between realities, and as such it had great power: whatever she would put her mind to, it would manifest in the material world. Since she had merged with Oscar, both of their minds were one. However, they were often at loggerheads; she was following her heart and he was following his ego. Oscar’s mind had turned out to be more powerful than we had anticipated. His vision, however out of focus and confused, was still very strong and had the ability to turn whatever concept he held in his mind into manifest reality.

  The Dark Forces of the Luciferian Tribe were quick to capitalise on this. They had sent him Charlotte to ensure his manifesting skills would work to their advantage. At the same time, and to counterbalance their attack, we first had sent Matt and then Magne to Cassandra’s aid. They both had the purest hearts and very little ego. Magne in particular was one of the most gifted human beings on the planet at the time. He had a clever mind and a healthy body. He was blessed with grace, kindness, generosity and a strong sense of self-identity. He never doubted himself and his intentions.

  He knew that his relationship with Cassandra was not meant to be forever, but was adamant to make the most of the time they spent together. They never argued and they were always lovable and tender to each other. It was very easy for us to gravitate around the happy couple as their joint energy was almost completely fourth-dimensional. Problems would only ever transpire at plenilune when the connection with the past would became stronger and Cassandra’s heart sensed her ties with Oscar’s. The current full moon was no exception. The ethereal cord between the two former lovers had been re-activated and their emotions would be shared once again. Cassandra felt Oscar’s sadness and the void in his heart. The man she once loved was now loveless. She wanted to caress his head and hold him close to her chest once more.

  Distance didn’t mean much to their hearts’ connection. Oscar was in Paris and yet he felt Cassandra’s warmth. While she was writing the letter to him the night before, he had looked up at the sky and sent his yearnings to the silvery light of the moon. Something called him back to the moment they had parted. He knew that if he wanted to fix his mistake, he should start from there. How, he didn’t know yet. But he was looking for a solution. Something was re-awakening in him. Life was calling him on. And he knew there could be no life for him without Cassandra.

  In the Père Lachaise Cemetery, Oscar was at a crossroad once more. Should he live and try to get her back? Or should he die and set her free forever, in the knowledge that his life without her was meaningless? He knew the answer to this conundrum would soon emerge. He knew that if he took the right course of action this time, he might be able to rectify his mistakes of the past. The Dark Forces were following in his trail so there wasn’t much we could do to send him signals of Light. Whatever his decision would turn out to be, Cassandra was in the Light. And if we managed to shelter her from Oscar’s thoughts at times like this, the Plan would continue its unfoldment until the first human being with stellar powers emerged in resonance with Cassandra’s evolution.

  So far it had not happened because of her regular dips into the past and the low energy associated with her once lover. Some bigger, happier event than Magne’s mere presence was required in her life to enable her heart to be steady in its bliss. In this way, her heart could orchestrate the cells of her body and all the systems in her organism to respond to the higher frequency coming from the fifth dimension, and from Shambhala. She was tuned into it but she couldn’t always hold it. Mind-blowing sex with Magne would guarantee a couple of day’s stability. But she would lose her Core Frequency whenever anything reminded her of Oscar. Her heart also remembered the wound he had inflicted upon her. In actual fact, the wound was his own wound, and he w
as projecting it on her. Shambhala couldn’t endure Meta’s absence any longer: we had to set our mighty minds on bringing her back.

  * * * *

  Conor walked through the gates of Cassandra and Magne’s mansion. His visit to Ireland was almost over. He wanted to say hello before returning to his life as a monk in Nepal. He missed his solitude and nature’s silence. He had not planned to see any of his old friends. But Cassandra was special. And that song he had made up for her in Paris all those years ago kept playing in his head. He had to see her: it was a sign.

  He arrived unannounced and was delighted to find her at home.

  She hugged him. “This is some surprise! Do come in, it’s been way too long! Conor, wow, look at you! Your energy is so centred. You look so wise and all grown up!”

  She was stunning, he thought, but he didn’t say a word. He was happy bathing in the affection she was giving him again, and startled by the warmth of her body pressed against his. It had taken him two months of silent retreat, contemplating the mountains and the sky, but he had accepted the fact now: he would never have this woman. He had fallen in love with her all those years ago, before his brother had even met her. He had loved her from the sidelines since then, always respecting and emulating, but never approaching her. He was just Oscar’s kid brother after all. That was always a bad thing, both when times were good and when they were bad. He had learned to transform his love for her as a woman into his love for her as a teacher. His development into his Higher Self had been easy and fast: it was spurred by his unspoken feelings for her. Yet nobody knew.

  “Hi, Cassie...,” he said, “wonderful to see you. Belated happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it to your party last week. I’m no longer one for big gatherings. In my new world, one is company and even two can be a crowd. I prefer mindfulness and nature these days... but I had to see you before I go back to Nepal next week...”

  Something unintended happened: she kissed his lips. He returned the kiss he’d been running from for seventeen long years. He had not been with a woman in months. In the throes of passion, he let her remove his shirt and trousers without putting on any resistance. Her eyes were fixed on his face, on his sad blue eyes. She guided his hands across her body, stopping them at the whim of her senses. Their lovemaking brought them to pleasure on the carpet. Then he pulled away, got dressed and left as if the house was on fire.

  Cassandra tried to catch her breath. “Interesting birthday present I got myself...”

  In Shambhala we realised that the Dark Side was much closer to her then we had assumed. We had to help her get back to the Light.

  * * * *

  Conor returned to his mother’s house with the intention of locking himself in his old room. Meditation would help him take his mind off what had happened. Maya. Illusion. Temptation. But the thrill of it had been overwhelming. A sense of satisfaction still pervaded his limbs. Oscar was in the sitting room when he arrived. What was he doing there? Wasn’t he supposed to be in Paris with Morwana and Charlotte? He had to tell him, at last. He had to let his brother know what had been eating him up inside for all those years, and which was now founded in experience. He didn’t want to hurt him. Or perhaps he did.

  “You won’t believe what’s just happened to me...”

  * * * *

  Oscar was livid, and no surprise. His brother’s account of the way Cassie had seduced him made him sick to his stomach. He wasn’t angry with Conor, but disgusted at himself for having loved someone who pretended she was purer than spring water. Deep down, she was no better than any other pussy. And he was the fool who had spent years trying to purge the sense of guilt left by his choices.

  He felt humiliated for having ever revealed some of his darkest secrets to her. He had thought she was an angel. Now he knew that she was just another bitch. He’d never felt any more alone, apart from his days at St Anthony’s. This was the final straw. Enough. As far as he was concerned, she had never existed. He poured more vodka in his glass and wandered in the land of oblivion.

  * * * *

  When Mrs O’Leary came home that evening, Oscar was asleep on the sofa while Conor was chanting in his room. She was happy to have both of her sons at home that night. It hadn’t happened in years. We didn’t share her sense of peace in Shambhala.

  * * * *

  Shambhala, September 2011

  During my 12-month stay on the fourth-dimensional Earth, and despite the fact that I had acted as an interdimensional bridge to the third dimension where you dwelled, you and I had never managed to meet in the flesh. In the end, my descent came to an end when full memory of my True Origin returned to my mind and I found myself in the timeless realm of the White Island; you were not part of it.

  Here, I would often visit the Enchanted Forest and contemplate on the beauty of eternity. On one such occasion, my steps were cut short the second I heard a voice in the jets of the Crystal Waterfall; I stopped to listen to its plea.

  “Cassandra, why did you forget me?”

  You had made contact with me even here. The memory of our love must have been held in the focus of your attention long enough for it to blossom back to life. I wanted to tell you as much while I could, while the Veil of Illusion remained pierced by your longing. So I started to speak. Perhaps you could hear me too.

  “Oscar, my friend, did you really think I could ever forget you? My spirit may be tied to this ethereal realm, but my heart is still with you. When I was on Earth, not a day had gone by without my thinking that you will eventually come back, renewed. I wanted to help you. I wanted to accelerate the process. But I couldn’t tamper with the Plan. Some things are meant to be and they just have to follow their course, be it down a gushing stream or along a slow river.

  When I still lived in Dublin, I let many years go by in the hope that you would wake up to your True Identity. It was hard not to think about you. I had to train myself not to, because if I did, it would bring about the manifestation of your thoughts, including your darker ones. So I did my best to set my mind on other things and other people. It didn’t always work. The Masters were always there to help me as I grew gradually into the Light of my True Being.

  When my time with Magne came to an end, you came back to my thoughts briefly but distinctly. I wrote you a letter on the eve of my fortieth birthday, and I almost sent it. You heart was beating in synch with mine again. Something was stirring inside you, I sensed. Perhaps you were starting to resolve some of the delicate issues that had plagued you all of your life, or you had forgiven me and were finding your way back.

  But it was too late: my evolution was complete and I had to return to Shambhala to be with my True Family. Now that the Light has filled my entire Being, I can’t live on the Earth any longer. Unless the purity of your love wills me back. Your absence still clouds my mind, however, even here.

  I hoped one day soon you will tell me what happened to you during your time without me. Until then, all I can do is pray to my kin, the Stars, to guide me to the space-time junction where we can try to choose differently. Who knows if we will ever walk together into the future again, or if we will have to surrender ourselves to the idea of the eternal defeat of our love? I hope my words can reach you through the magic of our connection...”

  But then the water went silent and communication was lost. I was afraid I would forget you again. You were deleted from Shambhala and your memory wasn’t meant to linger on. I went to ask Lumiel for advice; if there was a way to save our connection, my ally was bound to know.

  * * * *

  Shambhala, January 2012: On Relationships as Mirrors

  I know, Oscar, that you can hear every word that I say. Lumiel is the bridge that connects us. When he’s with me, your memory comes back to my heart. He is sitting next to me now; so I keep talking to you, although many Earth years have passed since our first joint visit to Shambhala. Who would have guessed it then? Now we no longer journey together. So much has happened. So many star-crossed turns of the road have torn
us apart. Although the Masters have tried to keep me from remembering you, they couldn’t stop my ally from reminding me of our connection as a man and a woman, my love.

  I almost died without you. The blow of losing you and your rejection of our love left an abyss inside me. The first months of your absence were a nightmare. My body didn’t want to respond to the most basic commands for survival. All I can remember were tears and a sense of worthlessness. I didn’t make any sense anymore at the time. You were everything to me. Perhaps I didn’t tell you often enough, perhaps I took you for granted. The love we shared was great by any standards. I missed you in every aspect of my life. My mind, body and soul felt no purpose. I struggled to react, to keep my will for living.

  Relationships are a necessity. Nobody can exist in isolation. In our detour into the Other we can find our Self. In the impulse to relate lies the secret of creation, the myth of God’s loneliness, or curiosity, which makes Him create humankind for company. The root of the world ‘relation’ means ‘bringing back’. Truly, we exist in relationship with the whole Universe, and everything and everyone is there to remind us of the sacredness of our existence as creatures of a holy, wholesome impulse.

  There are various degrees of relationships, of course. The kind of tie that binds us is one that can allow us to be our full Selves. It’s a reminder of our complete nature in this life. You are that special person who is the keeper of the Mirror of My Soul. And I am the Mirror of your Soul. In relating to you, even from a distance made of time and space, my best Self comes to the fore. You are my Twin Flame, don’t you know?

  You had never heard of the expression until you met me. Then the word became a constant in the Transformation Manifesto I was putting together. I never explicitly told you that it applied to us, but it was obvious. We had a tacit, solemn understanding that our relationship was of great importance to the developments of the entire Transformation Movement. Silence sealed this pact. From the first time our eyes met, the deal was cut. Time and the Masters tried to wipe away the memory of our bond, to no avail.