Friday, December 28, 2007

Compassion so Subtle it's Sublime

Alex Blackwell at The Next 45 Years tagged me to join in the Spread the Love Now! Group Writing Project initiated by The Three Monks. For the rules for submitting an article go to one of their websites:

With receipt of Alex’s email, I was at first elated—to be connected with such a fine collection of inspirational writers—then immediately disheartened to see the subject: Compassion.

Compassion?! Do we have to do Compassion now? Yes, I know the rote message! But you know, Spirit, that I cannot allow myself a mere lifeless soliloquy. You know that if I am going to write it, I must live it today! I must feel it, actively, now. —And it cannot be a message that people are already well familiar with.

If we must…then let it be compassion.

Please give me a minute to explain. Compassion is a fine topic, an appropriate focus for any day, and particularly important for this time of year (in the northern hemisphere) when the weather is harshest, the shorter daylight hours depress often, and many hopes are dashed on finding that no holiday or event can support the weight of so much anticipated rescue from all that ails.

The problem was never the subject. The problem was that Spirit confronted me with this opportunity at a time that I did not feel I was in a position to do it justice. It’s like being well trained and capable in the proper handling and care of the queen’s snow white cape, but as I was merely the backup attendant who imagined my big chance would come—without warning—just after I finished filling in for the chimney sweep?

Oh well, Spirit’s opportunity comes when it will…for its own reason.

So I walked away from the email and awaited that place beyond the muddled condition of mind that it found me in. After all, there was nothing going on in my life that could justify not standing up to the state of spirit that would be necessary to properly do this task. I was not that attached to my melancholy. In fact, I was in the process of shaking it off when Alex’s note delivered the abrupt wake up call. “I can do this,” I said. And then I waited.

It was not long before the subtle craft of Spirit began to show itself…or rather, to clear my eyes, for compassion (and Spirit) had always been in touch with me me, had never been hidden from me.

I do not know why Wade, Kenton, and Albert started this project. If it had been my project, I suspect I would have imagined the process was to refresh compassion in the minds of readers and writers, inspiring acts of compassion out into the world around them. Though that will undoubtedly be some of the effect of the Love Now! Group Writing Project, I start to imagine there will be many initially less obvious benefits, other profound forms of compassion.

My first experience of the effect of this project was the compassion that I was induced to treat myself with. I allowed myself to release the gloom that I had stumbled into so that I could properly contemplate the subject of compassion—a subject too important to receive anything short of a fully focused consideration, connected to the heart.

I thank the three monks for that gift of compassion, for myself and all the others that will experience it.

I do not know why Alex invited me into this project. Very likely Alex did not consciously know of the transformation that I would be given in order to appropriately respond to his tag. He and I have never communicated other than through comment boxes in blogs and, then only very recently—at least we have not communicated in direct and obvious ways.

Though Alex and I have not communicated in direct or obvious ways, we are all—each and every one of us—connected at a transcendental level. And we all ‘speak’ with each other. It’s just that not everyone has the perceptiveness to respond to even the unheard and unseen needs of our sisters and brothers. Sometimes we know, but doubt.

I thank Alex for his compassion to reach out and have confidence that I could show proper honor to this project.

So now, having traveled this circuitous little mind path to achieve a place quiet enough to attentively consider compassion, it is not surprising that I would be primed to settle on an atypical variation—what some may consider a minor face of compassion. I, however, have found evidence of this particular gift being something much needed even in places where one would never imagine finding ‘the needy.’

This act of compassion seems that it should simpler to offer than most. At first consideration, one would imagine that giving it requires nothing of us. It’s something we can freely give without ever being the lesser for it. It should be easy! But it must not be so, or there would be more evidence of it in the world as there are so many opportunities to share this gift every day. What is even more confounding is that giving this gift immediately benefits both giver and receiver.

Another sublime aspect of this particular form of compassion is that the receiver is rarely conscious of receiving it. For that matter, they are rarely aware of their need of such a loving gift. However, a person who receives this gift of gentle compassion is invariably affected. You can openly pour this compassion over the one in need—and I assure you that will be just about anyone you meet—without ever threatening anyone’s dignity or pride.

A dear friend, Kitty Couch (1921-2004) introduced me to this form of compassion, without ever my knowing that I was its recipient until far into our relationship. I realized that something was different with my experience when I spent time with Kitty. I have tried to cultivate my sensitivity over the years, so I knew there was a palpable sense of having received something more than the gift of time and friendship when leaving each visit with her. At first this sensation was a little uncomfortable—because of the unusualness of the experience—but the subconscious so enjoyed the experience that the conscious mind was quickly convinced that it was delusional in its concerns.

Kitty was a genteel Southern (US) lady, so it was not surprising that whenever you tried to engage her into conversation about herself, she would say something like, “I know about me, Sweetie. I want to know about you.” She was also a converted Buddhist (raised Catholic), so that may have added to the sense of focus she gifted her guests with. Some time passed and I began to more actively try to shift the conversation to her, for she was a very interesting person. However, she would kindly sidestep and again touch you with her gentle attention. Before you knew it, you’d be leaving the visit with no more knowledge about her than before—but feeling wonderful!

After some time, I suspect my ‘need’ had been healed enough that I could begin to see the magic that Kitty was working with everyone that came in contact with her---and there were many. The gift she gave, the compassion so simple yet so rarely given, was undivided, focused, heart-felt attention to the person that she was visiting with at the moment. If there were a dozen visiting at any given time, when her eyes came in contact with you, she connected! She gave her attention to you alone….not to her thoughts, her concerns, her tomorrow, her yesterday, her reply, offering more tea or snacks. She gave her attention to you alone! Each person felt special in Kitty’s presence, all because of undivided attention for a short period of time—each time, every time. And she did this with friends, neighbors, people on the street, the sangha that met at her home, the prison sangha, troubled school kids, anyone and everyone.

Before that experience, I had never even realized just how counterfeit is the focus that we so often offer as attentiveness,including the ones we love. Even when we mean to give our all, our minds are just not used to coming to such a single focus for any length of time. And that is another amazing thing about the fact that this practice is offered so rarely. The moment one gifts another with this unreserved focus of our attention, we are immediately unchained from all our concerns of ourself. All the exaggerated demons of the mind are immediately deflated, for no space in the attention is left for them to thrive.

I was fortunate enough to know Kitty long enough after she had healed my deficit that I could actually see her giving the gift to others. I saw how it affected them. I saw the look in their eyes, the light that grew in their faces….all without them ever knowing she was giving or that they/we needed. Unfortunately, I did not get to have her around long enough to achieve any real mastery of the art. True, I know all the essentials, but it is always good to have a master to remind one of the possibilities. Example is the best teaching.

Kitty died in the winter of 2004, in an auto accident on her way to a Buddhist monastery in Vietnam. At her memorial in Penland, NC (US) many people suffered the lost of that undivided, open-hearted attention that was her greatest gift…and by no means a lesser face of compassion.

I can hold the essence of this kindness for periods of time. Only practice will improve the skill.
Blessing to the Spread the Love Now! Group Writing Project for the synchronistic compassion of bringing this study back to my attention.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Soul Mates

“There is a legend,” [Katerina began], “that every so often the life-force of the Collective begins to weaken because true bonding between couples—and people in general—is not being practiced throughout the infinite parallel worlds that make up the Collective Consciousness. Like all magic, when the magic of loving commitment is not believed in, or not being practiced, it begins to fade and die.

“Without devotion among the people, one to another, the Collective can have no radiance of life. It’s said that the Council of Crones perceived the dwindling lifeforce and though they don’t openly acknowledge the legend, they know the legend also says the Harmony Ceremony must be performed in such times to receive direction from the Collective.

“The Harmony Ceremony is one of very few ceremonial gatherings of the Council in which a member of the Sisterhood lower than the rank of council member or Crone Mother, such as an understudy, will ever be directly involved. In the Harmony Ceremony, the understudy is included as the psychic medium for the Collective. Few understudies over history have been blessed with receiving the message of the Collective.”

“The Council, Crone Mother, and her understudy gather in a special location meditating and chanting for days, or however long it takes for the understudy to be moved by the Collective, whether by vision, voice, or other means. Once the understudy receives some message while in a trance, it is up to the Crone Mother to interpret the purpose within the message, and direct the understudy in the path to take after the Harmony.

“I received the verse of the Sacred Vow, and the Mother said it was to be chanted from within the cottage several times per day while I meditated. She said the vibrational characteristics of the verse would help to heal the bonding rift in the Collective, that it would help restore loving communication and commitment.”

As Katerina went on with her tale, the little path wound its way up a grassy knoll, surrounded by some broadleaf, evergreen bushes. They crested the hill, and Ian was amazed to see elaborate stone formations on a flattened hilltop. It wasn’t a singular ring formation of standing stones, as Ian had seen when traveling in certain countries back home. Although there was some circular distribution of the entire pattern, the arrangement was obviously made by several groupings of independent configurations.

The path they had followed to the hilltop split and headed into several different directions. The new paths connected all the minor groupings, and etched patterns of their own within the larger grouping. In the center of it all, there was a small mounded platform, a few feet higher than the rest of the hilltop.

Katerina waited for Ian to take it all in.

He finally spoke, “Is this our destination?”

“For now. We can stay here, or we can go on if you wish.”

“I’d like to stay for a while, Katerina.”

Ian followed her on one of the paths to the center mound. As they neared the center, the hair on his body stood on edge.
The overall stone layout unquestionably focused energy toward this mound.

He turned to Katerina for explanation, “What is this place?”

“It’s where I received the Sacred Vow.”

Ian could see how one would be brought to some expanded state of awareness in this place. The air was still, yet he heard a roaring in his ears.

“You’ll get used to the sensations in a moment,” Katerina assured him as she spread a cloth on the grass in the center of the raised mound. “Let’s rest a little while.”

Ian’s nervous system was getting a little more charged than he could stand. He felt a need to move from that particular location. Looking about somewhat frantically, he saw a stone grouping that made him feel comfortable on first sight of it. Pointing to it, he asked, “Could we go over there?”

“Sure, if you want.”

Katerina gathered her cloth and they made their way, following the most direct path available to that stone grouping. Once there, they spread the cloth again, and Ian sat with his back tight against one of the upright stones. It faced the sun and was angled slightly backwards, making an excellent backrest. Katerina sat beside Ian, just far enough away that neither of their forcefields pushed the other.

. . .

As night approached, the shadows thrown about by the stones were surprisingly animated. A dramatically highlighted carving in one stone drew Ian’s attention: it appeared to have moved. He hadn’t really paid any attention to the carved patterns until now. It seemed that the placement of the stones and the patterns on them were intended to provide an illusion of movement.

“Katerina, is this movement of shadows on the stones something
that I am imagining?”

“Not at all,” she answered. “The patterns of the configurations, the shapes of the stones and their carvings are designed to manipulate light in times between day and night. The result is a three-dimensional mandala, a visual representation of the Collective.”

Though Ian couldn’t claim to know whether the mandala was an accurate representation of the Collective, the patterns that resulted had a consciousness-expanding effect all on their own. He could imagine that a ceremony involving a number of spiritually progressed women, chanting away as the patterns changed, could have overpowering effects on a person.

“The Sacred Vow verse was the Collective’s communication this time, Katerina?”

“Yes,” she responded. “It’s not always the case, but the legend is that it was also the message received by Crone Tara during the first Harmony ceremony.”

“So, why do you think I received the verse in a dream years ago?” Ian asked.

“Without being aware of what you were hearing, you were more sensitive to the needs of the Collective than even the Council of Crones. Years before the Harmony Ceremony, you were prepared to receive the Call. Without a doubt you are one of only two people identified by the Collective as being capable of helping resolve the fraying network of emotional bonds within the Collective.

“For all history of the Union, the complementary receiver of the Call—the receiver in the Union reality— has also been a member of a mystic order of a nature-based belief. It has always been believed that only masters in such a belief system are appropriately perceptive of the flow of energies in nature—therefore capable of becoming aware of the rift—and of the calls of the spiritual universe for assistance. That was why I thought you must have been teasing when you said you’ve never been a member of an order.

“Though the related legends in the Union orders have sometimes varied considerably from our belief, those orders were always familiar with the concept of the tear in the Collective. They also believed the coming together of two people selected by the Collective would provide a solution to the rift. Each culture had its own protocol and directions to follow once they were in contact.”

Ian returned to the topic. “That explains why everyone in your village was so respectful to me and glad to see me,” he said. “The only problem is, I don’t know if I’m up to performing to their expectations.”

“They all know the legends and are aware that the Council performed the Harmony Ceremony,” Katerina said.

“How am I supposed to be able to help the Collective, Katerina, when I didn’t even know it had a problem?”

Katerina didn’t answer right away. She carefully weighed her words when she said, “You know. It’s only that your cultural experience hasn’t provided you with a means to express and understand what you know. You have already seen that you know much more than you consciously realize and are able to express in words.”

. . .

Suddenly though, her expression softened and she said, “Have you ever heard a myth about the Rejoining of Spirit Mates?”

“Not that I know of. Please tell me the story, Katerina.” Ian made himself comfortable, hoping that his relaxed responses would help her focus on less troubled thoughts.

“There is a belief held by some that, in human form, we are only half the persona we were in spirit—spirit being a nonphysical segmentation of the Absolute Intelligence into an individual consciousness. In spirit, we are both lover and beloved. This love felt by the spirit for its whole self is too pure, too perfect to be perceived by human senses or the human mind. This energy is too powerful to be contained in a single physical form.

“So, should this spirit choose to enter the physical realm, wishing to look into the eyes of love, to feel the touch of love, to know the longing of separation and the jubilation of rejoining, there is a price. When entering into the corporeal reality, they who have been forever one are thrown apart—sometimes across time, worlds, or realities.

“A thread that binds the two remains, but most of the time it isn’t perceivable or comprehensible by the physical being’s conscious minds. Sometimes awareness of the connection can be awakened by studies or activities that make one more aware of the core self. As is often the case, it’s possible that the pair will not become aware—or if they do, they are unable to cross the distance between them. In these cases, their rejoining does not occur until both return to spirit.

“Therefore, any of these persons are only half the entity they were in spirit form. On those blessed occasions when one finds his or her spirit’s true complement, he or she is rejoining their other half, becoming as close to whole as can be achieved in the physical form. The person has the opportunity to experience that which originally seduced spirit into physical form.”

**Disclaimer: For me, truth is personal and the consciousness that created the world before us is so complex that it can and does simultaneously manifest an infinite number of realities that sometimes appear to the human mind to be diametrically opposed to one another.

Copyright 2007 CG Walters

This is my truth. Only you can determine if there is any value in it for you.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives. His current novel, Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of [his soulmate], opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him…Highly recommended. —Midwest Book Review.

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader

In celebration of CG’s upcoming non-fiction book, Strike a Chord of Silence, for a limited time autographed/signed copies of Sacred Vow are available for $4.00US plus shipping!

Purchase a signed paperback copy from – or buy from your favorite brick and mortar, or online store ( ). Purchase Sacred Vow as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as the entire article and complete by line is included, without additions.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Finding the One Truth?

Welcome to the ever-progressing horizon!

I went looking for a single, unchanging truth—something to buffer my mind and spirit from the harsh realities of life. Many popular paths were sampled. Despite their undeniable benefits for so many others, I was not able to achieve a similar satisfaction. I never doubted the value of the practices I sampled, but merely accepted they were not right for me at that time. A key does not cease to be a key because it does not fit the lock in hand.

In time, I collected tools of insight, from here and there, that promised to be helpful. I was determined to construct a custom truth, catering exactly to my unique ‘lock’. Once my compilation had come to some initial stopping point, I realized that some basic concepts within the items from the varied sources were repeated. So, I started to trim out the duplicates and those issues that seemed to possess the least power for me—what I deemed as not vital to my personal definition of reality…Occam’s razor, if you will.

Having felt successful in my collection, I was inspired to condense this compilation to its most basic form. Surely, such a simple answer as I sought did not require a tome to store its meaning. Maybe there could be a mere handful of insights that I could carry about through life. From those few, all other needed knowledge could blossom, as—and only when—needed.

Little by little, I worked my way through condensing the information, directed by only the most-tenuous hint of intuition—the same guide I had used for initially collecting the material. At the time, I had no real proof that the perspective that was developing would be any more useful to my goal than any of those already available paths. And I could have accepted any of them straight away without so much effort. I was, however, experiencing some discernable benefit from the mere focus of my efforts. So, I continued, if for no other reason than the meditative state of the endeavor.

There were times when the search revealed things about me and about my life that made me wish to be free of the journey that I had started on. Sometimes revelations extracted from my dwindling compilation implied a necessary view of the world that I did not find comfortable, or was not yet ready to step up to yet. Occasionally, my conscious mind would scream in defense, ‘you initiated this. Throw it out and walk away!’ But I had been warned that once one starts down the path seeking an expanded awareness, there is no turning back—you cannot go ‘home.’

At some point, the process of the pursuit became so much a part of my definition of self, even the uncomfortable revelations were less distressing than the idea of turning my back on this path. This stage proved to be quite necessary. For now I condensed what remained with abandon, without the slightest fear for what material might be lost. If intuition did not save it, each passage or concept was eliminated or combined with another. The text alone could no longer be my truth. The alchemical process of the path had become the truth!

In due time, that particular portion of my process was completed—only to start a much more complex progression. It reduced the “truth” that was to buffer me from the demands of life to a single statement. But the resulting ‘fixed constant’ did not exactly match my preconceived idea. It did not provide me with exactly an invariable ground on which to build a sanctuary. What I was left with informed me:

Truth is but a resting place until the next revelation—the ever progressing horizon.

**Disclaimer: For me, truth is personal and the consciousness that created the world before us is so complex that it can and does simultaneously manifest an infinite number of realities that sometimes appear to the human mind to be diametrically opposed to one another.
Copyright 2007 CG Walters

This is my truth. Only you can determine if there is any value in it for you.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives. His current novel, Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of [his soulmate], opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him…Highly recommended. —Midwest Book Review.

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader

In celebration of CG’s upcoming non-fiction book, Strike a Chord of Silence, for a limited time autographed/signed copies of Sacred Vow are available for $4.00US plus shipping!

Purchase a signed paperback copy from – or buy from your favorite brick and mortar, or online store ( ). Purchase Sacred Vow as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as the entire article and complete by line is included, without additions.

Many thanks to Miguel Trujillo happiness carnival - November 25, 2007 , Anne Maybus
November 30, 2007 edition of living a real life and Andrea Hess Carnival of Truth #3 and Karen Lynch LIVE THE POWER UNLIMITED-volume 10 for featuring this article in their excellent carnivals.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Djalma : Mystic

(excerpt from Sacred Vow © C.G. Walters)

"First of all, you are comfortable, are you not, with the idea that everything is made up of energy, and the physical world is an illusion?" Djalma asked.

"Sure," Ian responded. "In theory, anyway."

Djalma spoke quietly, his eyes intently focused on Ian's face. "Though not often experienced as you have recently, it is more than theory. It is so. How are you with the concept of infinite realities?"

Ian defaulted to an attempt at humor. "I like it, but no more than a couple nights a week."
Djalma's smile still conveyed seriousness.

"Sorry," Ian said. "Just what do you mean?"

"There is a single, all-encompassing energy field, call it the Whole or the Absolute. Within this infinitude are a limitless number of overlapping subsets, let's say segmented fields, that vibrate at unique ranges of frequencies. Each field is a separate reality, which more often than not remains unseen by any of the inhabitants of the other fields because of the frequency differences between them."

"Everything that appears to be physical within a subset of a specific reality adds a unique energetic signature onto the base resonance of that field, while remaining within the defined range of that field." Djalma waited to make sure Ian was following.

Ian could see that his confusion was not going to dissipate in the near future. So he nodded once, to suggest that Djalma go on.

"We may have to come back to this wider scope, but for now let's focus specifically on a single reality-our illusory, ‘physical' reality. At the very least, those things we perceive as material will resonate according to their molecular makeup," Djalma continued. "From there, every entity gives off emanations based on what it has experienced, no matter if it is physical or not, sentient or not. In addition to this vibration, those entities, which we recognize as living, stir in their own personality or nature, which can be, for example, predatory, genteel, or whatever. Additionally, the resonance one picks up from self-aware entities is very affected by their individual assessments of their own experience and by their sense of self."

Ian was glad to drop the implications of those other fields, subsets, or whatever Djalma wanted to call them. Even with limiting his focus to his own reality, what Djalma was presenting was giving Ian a bit of psychological discomfort. Sure, Ian accepted such things as scientific fact, but he had not expected to deal with them in his personal life.

Djalma kept working with the roots and herbs. "Some people are completely unresponsive to these psychic emanations. Almost always, their total imperceptivity indicates a psychology of disassociation, dangerous to the individual and those that share their world, known and unknown. Such a lack of responsiveness should be corrected. Most people have some degree of sensitivity, which varies, depending on the situation and the range of vibrations they are naturally attuned to.

"These vibrations provoke the feeling of otherwise unwarranted pleasure you might experience when you meet certain people, or the sudden weakness that may come over you in a particular environment. When acquiring possessions, we're sometimes attracted by the resonance of the item, rather than by its more commonly perceptible characteristics. These emanations continue to affect us, and their surrounding environment, after we acquire the piece."

The implications of what Djalma was saying began to overwhelm Ian. "That would suggest we take on an enormous liability every time we choose a prospective possession!" he burst out.

Djalma looked around the room, and then said casually, "Rarely is there any need to be apprehensive. Most people are engaged in some degree of the same type of choosing based on the emanations that people and things give off. Russian roulette alchemy, if you will. Fortunately, the cylinder of this theoretical revolver has an infinite number of chambers, providing minimal odds for any perceivable alteration within the so-called normal reality, much less any threat to an individual."

"If that is the case, how do you explain what I have been experiencing?" Ian demanded.

With the equanimity one would expect of a person with his apparent achievements despite his youth, Djalma picked up the distress in Ian's tone. He smiled as if he knew that Ian was asking to quiet his own fear. "Perhaps it's just the luck of the draw. Lightning has to hit somewhere every time it strikes."

Ian stared hard at Djalma. He wanted answers, not just to have Djalma offer vague speculations.

Djalma responded to Ian's unspoken plea, "Theoretically, if one was able to attune one's personal resonance to another range, another channel, say, such a person could slip from one reality to another.

"In your case, I'm inclined to believe that some part of your deeper self has been pursuing this kind of access for many years. Perhaps up until now your quest has been exclusively subconscious. It's possible that the process has taken all the previous energetic mixes in order for these visits to happen. In addition, your conscious mind may have been going through preparation, so to speak, so that it could perceive what has happened.

" Perhaps your subconscious was always experimenting, armed with no more than a desired result." Djalma rose and took the pot of root mix over to the stove.
. . .

With his pot of herbs simmering, Djalma came back to sit across from Ian. "Remember back when we were talking about a base range of resonance within a reality or field? Just as everything has its unique energy signature, a grouping of items within a certain space near each other will combine to produce a collective signature. To varying degrees, almost always unintelligibly, these collective signatures affect the reality experienced by anyone within the scope of their influence.

"Most people aren't sensitive enough to perceive even a fairly wide range of fluctuation from the base emanation of their own field of reality. Those who do sometimes perceive such fluctuations rarely interpret their resulting experience as anything more than a gut feeling, maybe the hair standing up on the back of their neck for no apparent reason. Sometimes a particular area has such a strong collective signature that even the general populace will acknowledge the location as possessing some preternatural influence. The usual extreme end of the spectrum would be widely experienced apparitions in the area."

"Are you saying Katerina is a ghost?" Ian cut in.

"Not at all," Djalma responded.
. . .
Djalma slowly shook his head, and waited for Ian to relax enough to take in what he was about to say.
Whether by the unlikely accident or subconscious intention," Djalma said, "I'm content that you have constructed a collective signature within your study that is affecting your perceived reality-or rather, periodically expanding your perception of reality.

"Now remember I said the different fields or realities are almost always invisible to each other because of differing base frequency ranges." This time Djalma waited as if for a response from Ian, giving him a questioning look.

Concluding that they would not go forward otherwise, Ian offered a cautious "Yes."

Satisfied, Djalma smiled and continued, "More than just unveiling something from the sensory fringes of our shared reality field, the collective signature of your study seems to have created a vibrational doorway, making it possible for you to move into another reality, an alternate or parallel life.

"There are an inestimable number of realities, overlapping the very space of this room and even our very bodies. We never become aware of them, though these worlds appear just as substantial to their occupants as we believe ours to be. Only the most achieved Masters and Adepts expand their consciousness sufficiently to achieve a glimpse across these boundaries. It requires a very precise balance of vibrational signatures, external and/or internal, to perform such a pass-through.

"It's almost impossible to stumble across exactly the right combination to produce such an access. Even though you were not consciously aware of it, you did not stumble across this doorway. I believe your visitor is not a result of chance."

"Expanded perception," Ian said, "would explain my ability to see her world, to see her there, but how does that explain my own experience of traveling to her world or reality?"

"It's not traveling, really," Djalma replied. "That's a concept of the illusory physical realm-moving your form from one place to another-that your analyzing conscious mind has imposed on the experience, to make what is happening more comfortable, more familiar."

"Travel seems an apt description," Ian said. "I am here, and then I perceive myself, although not really solidly, in her reality. She has also traveled to my study.

"I can comprehend that what I see of Katerina could be just a visual projection into my room, a holograph, but my experience in her world is that I have something like a bodily presence there, just as I do right here."

Djalma smiled. "Well . . . actually you are neither here nor there."

Semantics are not helping, Ian thought.

Undisturbed by Ian's stern expression, Djalma smiled and continued, "Technically, we are not here. We are not physical. But we are an illusion of physicality, a manifestation of our consciousness, from energy.

"The energetic doorway in your study is doing more than just expanding your ability to see into this parallel reality. The experience could have been limited there. But your doorway appears to have allowed you at least a partial transfer, or fluctuation, between two separate reality fields . . . what you are referring to as traveling. Your ability to perceive this other reality makes it as real and accessible as the one you and I interact in
right now. After all, what is reality except the ‘perception of choice' at any given time?

You are manifesting a reference point for your consciousness, a body-even if not conventionally physical-in that place. You are in both places."

**Disclaimer: For me, truth is personal and the consciousness that created the world before us is so complex that it can and does simultaneously manifest an infinite number of realities that sometimes appear to the human mind to be diametrically opposed to one another.

Copyright 2007 CG Walters

This is my truth. Only you can determine if there is any value in it for you.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives. His current novel, Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of [his soulmate], opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him…Highly recommended. —Midwest Book Review.

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader

In celebration of CG’s upcoming non-fiction book, Strike a Chord of Silence, for a limited time autographed/signed copies of Sacred Vow are available for $4.00US plus shipping!

Purchase a signed paperback copy from – or buy from your favorite brick and mortar, or online store ( ). Purchase Sacred Vow as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as the entire article and complete by line is included, without additions.

Thanks to Missy Frye Just Write BlogCarnival (edition one) , Clary Lopez Books Carnival - December 2, 2007 , JM Scribes Blog Carnival , and Katelyn Thomas Medium Dreams January 2008 Carnival of the Odd for featuring this article in their carnivals.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Writing Sacred Vow : Letting a Spirit Story flow

It seems that a lot of angst would be spared if the spiritual path—and life, in general—had an undeniable standard pattern that could guarantee we were ‘on track’. There would be an invariable voice of the intuitive, heard by everyone—that you could compare with what your friends heard, just to make sure you were tuned into the right channel. Maps could be acquired in advance of any planned spiritual progression, to do away with all the years of meandering through endless forays.

So much effort is required to first determine if the mounting need within should be responded to as a worthy motivation or merely (as we are often told) a chance to mature—in the real world a word frequently implying a directive to ‘neglect,’ ‘deny,’ or ‘rationalize’. Once certain we have a true calling to this path, we must next determine from just where the voice of one’s guiding intuitive will emanate. What language will we use to communicate with it—service, art, and dance, even words? What environment will most likely evoke its presence?

For me, one of my most powerful connections to the Absolute—the Tao, or whatever you may call the unified intelligence—has turned out to be through just the right story: something that takes the form of an extended mantra, imbued with a rhythm and symbolism resonating so personally that it seems surely to be a direct manifestation of my intuitive self. Such a ‘chant’ lures me beyond my imagined limitations, to allow me to unreservedly embrace an otherwise untouchable identity.

That being the case, I guess I should not have been surprised when over time, I became aware that whenever my higher self, spirit guides, or other such familiars have been unable to otherwise get a piece of learning across to me, one of their choice tools is to bring it to me in the form of a story—even if I am the writer of that story. No matter what I have in mind, or am working on, I find my writing activities are suddenly hijacked along a previously unanticipated path. If I am in the midst of a neglectful sabbatical from writing, my mind becomes so inflicted with an unfolding tale that I must write it down to free myself from its clamor.

These playful friends of mine (my muses) are quite talented. For, as soon as they force me back to the keyboard, or by the moment that I realize that we have taken a “wrong” turn (if I was currently in a writing cycle), my conscious mind has already been seduced into gladly following their whimsy.

As a rule, once their intended lesson is conveyed via the resulting story, I am amazed that I was not already consciously aware of the information they have presented. Quite often I am such a complete convert that I cannot imagine how I could have been unaware of this particular information previously. Sometimes I suspect that I merely want to have as much as my instruction as possible delivered in this, my most favorite way.

I can’t offer any reasonable excuse for why I have periodically withdrawn from writing when I know that is the fount of so much valuable instruction for me. The most likely justification that I can offer is what flows before me is sometimes more than I was prepared to stand up before: sometimes “the truth may be recognized before the peace to live it is realized.”

The last time I had the good fortune of a being redirected along a path of instruction, I was making my way to rework a long-neglected bit of writing: doing preparatory exercises of short stories. Without warning, one of the stories—that soon became my novel, Sacred Vow—lay hold to my attention, far exceeding my intentions. I pursued, curious about what passed before me. After hour upon hour of following this new lure, I came out of my little 3x5 writing closet in a deep meditative state. Clearly, this story would be no mere preparation for another. Shortly afterwards, my job was downsized. I now had no excuse not to follow with abandon.

My writing closet—so small that I must turn the chair away from the desk to be able to stand and open the door to leave—may be an appropriate environment for inducing a meditative state—sitting in the dark for long hours, staring at a single light before me (the computer monitor). But I think there was something more going on. For ten to twelve hours a day, over the next several of weeks, I followed where the experience led. I was enjoying the story unfolding before me, but I was ecstatic from the sensation of extended periods of being connected to my higher self. My wife said that I possessed a radiance when I walked into the house during breaks in the writing. True, I typed in the text, but I did not initially imagine their meanings.

Weeks later, hiking with a friend, I told him of some of the views of reality unfolding in this new book. After listening attentively, he said: “Do you really believe this is the way it works?”

We continued deeper into the woods, as I gave his question thought. I was a little amused at the answer I finally had to admit. I said, “Until I saw this information in the story, I can’t say that I had any such ideas. But now, yes, I think this is a truth.”

“You know how tarot cards unveils truth depending on the way the cards fall?” he asked. “Perhaps just such an auspicious falling of words on your screen is unfolding the same way.”

For just such moments of clear connection with my higher self as the writing of Sacred Vow, I gladly pay the cost of the once seemingly endless attempts to connect with my unique path and intuitive voice.

Copyright 2007 CG Walters

This is my truth. Only you can determine if there is any value in it for you.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of
Sacred Vow are available from the author– or purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as the entire article and complete by line is included, without additions.

Many thanks to Missy Frye Just Write BlogCarnival (edition one) and Frye Tim King Carnival of Storytelling #8 for featuring this article in their excellent collections.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Searching (for a Soul Mate)

No longer confined to material experience, Katerina crossed into the dimly lit room, invisible to its inhabitants. She had never visited this world before, never laid eyes on this person, yet Katerina’s bond to the lean, gray-haired man seated at the wooden table was so intense and immediate that she barely managed to suppress the impulse to reach out and embrace him.

He rested a forearm on either side of the tattered book at which he stared, completely absorbed. In a few moments, he began to read aloud to himself, in a gentle voice.

“So long have we been sharing our experience, our becoming, that it no longer makes sense to imagine such a thing as either of us wholly divisible from the other . . . if it ever did make sense.”

Slowly he sat upright, eyes staring in Katerina’s direction, though completely unaware of her, staring through her formless presence and beyond her. A smile spread over his weathered face.

Mesmerized, Katerina watched the man’s bright eyes as he began to move his head to the left. The moment his attention came to rest, an undeniable serenity radiated from his face, drawing Katerina to turn and seek out its inspiration.

He was looking into the face of a woman sitting in a large, upholstered chair, motionless, silent, and eyes closed. Upon first recognition of that face, Katerina’s intimacy with it involuntarily pulled her nearer. It was her own face on which Katerina was gazing, many years older, but indisputably her face. Katerina wanted to linger and rest her spirit, weary from all the traveling today, to just take in the simplicity of their life together in this place. But she knew that would be unwise.

Though only an observer, Katerina felt herself beginning to fuse into this life, making it her own. And this reality was progressively laying claim to her. Synthesis into the visited environment was a known problem with this manner of searching. She had been cautioned against becoming too tired and being seduced into idling.

She took one last look at her partner in this alternate life— at the partner of this parallel self. Katerina forced herself to continue the search elsewhere. This man was surely a manifestation of the one she sought, but this was not “him.”

Then she released her hold on this life. The tangibility of another facet of reality dissolved around her, as it had so many times before that day.

When letting go of a visited life, Katerina often had a sense of rapid movement—somewhat unnerving. It was similar to the dream sensation of falling when on the brink of sleep. Except this movement went in all directions simultaneously, including inward.

As Katerina removed herself from this life of hers, she retained traces of it. Though she had visited the place for only moments, that reality had been thoroughly integrated into Katerina’s definition of self, her emotions, and her mind. The same thing had happened with each parallel life that she had visited today. The resulting assimilation of parallel self-definitions was proving to be the hardest part of this task. Katerina could feel something similar to layers of simultaneous lifetime awarenesses building within her consciousness. With each new layer, Katerina’s definition-of-self expanded, but the primary identity receded a little. The more the tether to her prime personality weakened, the more dangerous the next visit became.

These dangers to the visitant were why this ritual was so rarely performed. Only by forcing acknowledgment of her exceptional skills had Katerina been able to persuade The Nine to consent to, and assist in, her searches. With each passing in and out of these parallel lives, Katerina became progressively more understanding of the Crones’ concerns.

Good fortune and bad awaited Katerina at the next location she tried to visit. For whatever reason, she was blocked from entering the environment. This meant the spirit of the very person she had come to visit denied her access—so she had been taught.

The barrier was good because of the respite it afforded her, even momentarily. It was bad because this failed attempt was an opportunity lost and she had no time to waste. Katerina could feel her subconscious becoming overwhelmed. She would have to abandon the search very soon.

As though she had been slammed into a wall, Katerina rebounded. With no time to prepare, she entered into another parallel life. The quickness of the transfer had a severe impact on her already depleted energies.

Hazy images began to take form before her eyes. As in every other visit today, what Katerina saw and felt was as real to her as the life in the world of her physical form. These people, her lives in parallel realities, always existed right before her eyes. They were as real as any member of her order that she interacted with day in and day out. In this process, Katerina merely opened her awareness to the otherwise unacknowledged doorway between the infinite realities.

Memories that were hidden from her a moment before—memories belonging exclusively to this parallel life—began to introduce themselves into her consciousness. A flood of previously inaccessible senses, personal to this life, began to send their messages to her brain. Emotions without history for the traveling Katerina of a moment before began to structure in her mind the network of associations that gave them consequence. It was becoming almost impossible to fully open herself to yet another mind, another life, and still retain her distinction from them.

“Maintain the focus,” she reminded herself. “Where is the Union?”

Psychically, she searched the structure in which she stood for evidence of his presence. She knew he had been in this room only a moment before. Scanning one room after another with her mind, her senses met him returning up the stairs from a lower floor.

Perceptive of subtle energies, he stopped, and turned his head as if trying to catch the sound or sight that had fleetingly stirred his attention. Though her presence was centered in another room, Katerina held her mental focus on him, just outside of his range of perception. There was something very special about this one, and she took time to enjoy that uniqueness.

But he is not the Union, her mind cried out.

“Suen?” he called.

“What is it, Yeetar?” his partner replied from a room at the back of the top floor.

Yeetar looked around, curious. It was obvious that he had perceived an unfamiliar intrusion into his world. He seemed to be reaching out with something more than his five senses, trying to locate her. So Katerina cautiously began to withdraw her presence.

Significant, she thought. But, still not the Union.

Katerina heard Yeetar reply, uncertainly, “Nothing, Suen,” as the last of Katerina’s foreign essence departed from his world.

Katerina knew she could not attempt another visit. Her need to return to the Motherworld was too great. As soon as she pulled herself back into the mortal form that was her own, every member of The Nine instantaneously received her request for termination of the rite. The gurgling song of the streams that surrounded the circle of Crones aided her return.

Though Katerina felt her spirit fully identify with the body of her home reality, her mind was overwhelmed with the competing identities she had integrated into her awareness during the searches. Still in the seated meditation posture, Katerina slumped forward, reaching her hands to the ground for reconnection, pressing her palms to the soft, living moss that covered the ground below her. Her breathing was deep and slow. With each inhalation, the scent of the evergreen forest strengthened her connection to this place, her primary home.

Surges of energy began to run through her muscles, making them twitch. Katerina strove to suppress these involuntary movements.

Undoubtedly, out of need for its own survival, Katerina’s conscious mind was feverishly sweeping through the queue of her recent experiences and vanquishing all contending identities to the subdued recesses of her subconscious.

Katerina had no way of telling how long the hand had been on her shoulder. Still unable to withdraw her concentration from the processes of recovery, she wasn’t yet able to perceive whose hand it was. A minute later, still unaware of who stood above her, Katerina began to realize that sympathetic energy flowed into her through the supportive hand, assisting Katerina in her efforts to integrate.

She had not wanted anyone to know how much impact the ceremony had had on her. She had been bold in her claims of being able to handle the process.

“You have done well, dear heart, and we are glad you are back with us.”

Katerina knew the voice. Head hanging down, eyes still closed, her sensory perception becoming exclusive to the world of her body, she replied, “I could not find him, Holiness. So many manifestations of him, but none of them were the Union.”

“That is both auspicious and unfortunate. With so many connections, the bond between you and him is exceptionally strong. It does, however, complicate finding the appropriate manifestation when seeking him without some assistance on his part.

“You have been remarkable in your effort, Katerina. No one would have asked so much of you. Care for yourself now, my child. This is a demanding task that you have undertaken.”

“I am certain something is not as we expect this time,” Katerina said.

“We may not understand why things are proceeding as they are, Katerina, but the Collective Consciousness cannot be wrong. We must carry out our practice as it has been handed down to us. The method has always served the need, and will again . . . in its own time.”

“Yes, Mother. But when I received the visions, it seemed he was not within an order. Is it possible?”

“The images you saw must be coincidental, not indicative of his full person, Katerina.”

“How can he refrain from replying?” Katerina asked, finally regaining enough strength to rise to her feet, though slowly. “Perhaps he cannot, or does not understand the Call.”

The old Matriarch wrapped an arm around Katerina’s back and helped the younger woman to steady her wobbly legs.

Katerina looked into the concerned, almost teary eyes of her superior and said, “I truly feel that something is unique to this occurrence of the rift.”

“I know you do, and I respect that belief. But you must accept that no matter the situation, the situation is perfection, as it has always been.”

A tear rolled down the wrinkled cheek before the elder continued.

“I would not have had you suffer this burden, Katerina, if I had such power to decide. And I must accept that this charge is yours to bear, in your own way.”

Despite the Matriarch’s compassionate tone, Katerina took her words as a reprimand. “I will not fail my duties. Until I find the Union, I will search without cease.”

Rubbing Katerina’s back, the old woman said, “You have always surpassed your duties, dear girl, and are doing so now. You will not fail, cannot fail. It is we who must not fail you.”

copyright 2007 CG Walters

**Disclaimer: For me, truth is personal and the consciousness that created the world before us is so complex that it can and does simultaneously manifest an infinite number of realities that sometimes appear to the human mind to be diametrically opposed to one another.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the mystical, metaphysical, and mythical insight that we all possess. He see fiction not as something less than truth, but something akin to a mantra…a means to induce the reader into comfortably ‘allowing’ their personal truth—a living, ever progressing truth, fit to their need at any given time.

His current novel, Sacred Vow is first and foremost a metaphysical love story, a tale of soul mates—twin flames—a journey toward our one true love…in its infinite expressions…bringing together two individuals from disparate realities—but one spirit—to heal the rift in the Collective Consciousness.

Get the full length FREE PDF eBook of Sacred Vow by going to and clicking on the link in the page to download the eBook. This will allow you to save the book to your disk. Purchase a signed paperback copy from – or buy from your favorite brick and mortar, or online store (

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as the entire article and complete by line is included.

Thanks to JM Scribes Blog Carnival , Creative Carnival - February 2008 , First Edition of a carnival of speculative fiction on The Writers’ Block , Clary Lopez Books Carnival , and Carnival For Short Stories - Edition IX for featuring this article.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Some Things You Just Know

In December 1993, by many standards my life was wonderful. I was in a loving relationship. I had a secure high-tech job of almost limitless advancement potential, with one of the largest international corporations in the world. My wife, of only a few years, and I had just built the house of our dreams, in pricey though desirable countryside surroundings—where we expected to retire in due time, enjoying the fulfillment of our dreams as best we understood them at that time.

Also in December 1993, my life was failing by some standards that I could not escape. All indications of my health were that I could not long survive the ‘costs’ of our achievements. I spent most hours of my day entering into/within/or recovering from a migraine. My blood pressure was sky high (very bad for someone with an aortic valve insufficiency). Virtually every aspect of my health seemed to offer a negative response to my attempts to push myself to achieve more, quicker, or to seek instant comfort from the effects of going ever faster, farther.

To make matters worse, I was in dire confusion about the growing conflict between how I believed I should assess my ‘achievements’ and what I actually felt inside. The more I achieved along that previously defined path of success, the emptier I felt—and the worse my health became. Fortunately, my relationship with my wife was strong. It was, however, being tested by my ravings about pursuing some unorthodox path to shake off the growing sense of meaninglessness. Kathy wanted to help, but had no better tools than I to understand what we would be trying to achieve if we did veer from the only path that we knew.

Soon, I announced to my wife, “I want to move to the mountains!” –a place that I had only visited very few times in my life, and found myself completely incompatible with due to my severe intolerance of heights (and curvy roads!). Kathy had much more history with the mountains, and loved them dearly, but was most comfortable with them as a cherished vacation destination . . . perhaps even a second-home site.

“How do you know you can live there?” she demanded, truly concerned about my reasoning and logic.

“Some things you just know,” was my spontaneous response—surprising Kathy as well as myself. I did not have any real understanding of the need to move to the mountains, but I did know.

I abruptly quit my job—certain that I could not muster the energy to survive if I went back into the office even one more time. I returned to my writing, long neglected, as an avenue to realize what it was that my spirit could not otherwise convey to my consciousness. I picked up a translation of the
Tao Te Ching.

Though it had become lost in the background of my everyday ‘achievements,’ I always had the good fortune of a strong connection to the spirit self. Writing, countryside and nature were forever the best gateway for me to come to my center. The Taoist philosophy of the Tao Te Ching was a perfect reminder. The land surrounding the dream home that I had come to disdain was now a willing aid in my journey back to myself.

Without my drive for an urgent solution, it took my wife another year to let go of the path that she had been well trained to believe in all her life. It was fortunate that a connection of the spirit—a joint interest in the metaphysical—had been one of the strongest common interests between us in the beginning, even at the subdued state of our spiritual focuses at that time. We followed our intuition, even without understanding it. Releasing that familiar life was a painful time in our relationship, but it proved we had a deeper bond that we had not fully realized.

In order to stay within our budget, we purchased a boarded up place in much need of repair, attic full of snakes, in the country. Writing again took a back seat to such things as patching the roof, chopping wood, getting running water into the house.

One of many new blessings provided to us was to walk to the ridge of the mountain range near our home—though it is a hard three hour climb. When we arrived in the area, my knees were so bad that I could barely walk stairs. Before long, the mountain had called me to the top.

Once on the top, I visited the mountain frequently, meditated many hours, listened to nature around me, and tried to attune my hearing to my higher self. Kathy and I redefined our priorities, and developed new circles of friends with focuses more compatible with our new understanding. Employment still got in the way of writing, but work chosen was more likely to tax the body than the mind and spirit.

For many years the writing waited while I came back to my center and my health. I was fortunate that the muses were not offended by my long absence. When I was in a position to understand, they renewed our conversation. One of the first things they graced me with was the knowledge that I had come to just the right place at just the right time.

Whether it is the love of your life, the life changing move to a new career/new location or a major shift in your definition of yourself, the greatest knowledge that you will ever exercise is often unjustified by your cultural experiences, your family heritage, your education or even your own logic. These are the “things that you just know,” from deep within yourself. It is a part of yourself that may seem mostly unfamiliar, but is always there…waiting until you can listen.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the mystical, metaphysical, and mythical insight that we all possess. He does not see fiction as something less than truth, but as a means to induce the reader into comfortably ‘allowing’ their personal truth—a living, ever progressing truth, fit to their need at any given time—as opposed to a truth dictated outside themselves. This perspective and his philosophy is evident is his new novel, Sacred Vow, is a journey toward our one true love . . . and its infinite expressions . . . bringing together two individuals from disparate realities—but of one spirit—to heal the rift in the Collective Consciousness . . . a breach that threatens us all.

Autographed/signed copies of
Sacred Vow are available from the author– or purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as it is reprinted in its entirety, along with the by-line.

Many blessings to Miguel Trujillo at happiness carnival - November 25, 2007 , Peter at Personal Stories of Change Blog Carnival: Edition 11 and Lexi Sundell at Carnival of Creative Growth #17 for featuring this article.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Sisterhood of Crones

This excerpted article is from the novel, Sacred Vow (Dragon's Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical). There is a rift in the Collective Consciousness because people are not bonding one to another. The Sisterhood of Crones (a description of the order, not their name–as their name is without word) is about to perform a ritual to receive a message from the Collective Consciousness…


Choice of the ritual location was dictated by nature just days before. Hundreds of people had roamed hill and field, dowsing for the place possessing the energy necessary for their purpose. The intended process could not take place on one of their customary
ceremonial sites, but only the spot identified as radiating the strongest flow of earth energy at the anticipated time of the rite.

Three ley lines, channels of the land’s energy, crossed a wooded hillside in a small patch of flat ground. Two ancient hardwood trees, one standing on either side of the rear of the opening, leaned forward before the rocky slope that bordered the backside of the level area. Their leaves filtered what little light could make its way from above.

Between the trees, at the base of the slope, there was a large greenish-gray stone. Its jagged face rose some twenty feet in the air. Three small streams, swollen with recent rains, flowed down the slope, marking the perimeter of the flat plot of land in front
of the stone, before converging and flowing downward over a small waterfall. The stream-encircled ground was carpeted with a thick, soft moss.

Once the location had been identified and verified, the holy women who would use that place and its energy consecrated it. On the appointed evening, shortly after midnight, a ceremonial procession of The Nine—which consisted of the Crone Mother, leader of their mystic order, and eight more of the wisest women of their society—Katerina, understudy to the Crone Mother, and their considerable entourage made their way to the location. For several hours, from their village to the south, those who remained behind could see the winding line of torches, and hear the repetitive chants as the group made their way to the anointed site.

Once the group arrived, still in the dark of the night, attendants placed torches around the perimeter of the chosen site. Then they spread seating mats in a large circle on the ground for those who would perform the ritual, with the Crone Mother’s back to the large boulder at the head of the flat ground. Katerina took her position, in the center of the circle, facing the Crone Mother. Once the members of the ceremony were seated, their retinue withdrew some distance from the site, in order not to disrupt the proceedings.

A time of silence then passed among those women remaining on the holy site, Katerina and The Nine. When no more sound of those traveling back down the hill could be heard, The Nine began a unified chant. Katerina remained silent, yielding to the trance induced by their voices. As planned, the light of dawn had just begun to make its way through the canopy of leaves. Within a very short time, the chanting ended, but Katerina
was not aware of the change. Where she had gone, The Nine could not follow, could not see what Katerina saw. Their task was now to assist Katerina in a search through her parallel lives, and to wait until she chose to return.

Hours passed as Katerina moved through the many complementary realities surrounding her—now made apparent to her by this expanded awareness—searching more than any of The Nine had anticipated as possible. The light of dawn, noon, and now
late evening had filtered through the tree cover above the seated women.

Despite her travels, Katerina remained attuned to every mind and spirit involved in the ritual. She was well aware that several of the wise ones had long been wishing for her to conclude her efforts, worried not for themselves but for Katerina and the conceivable limits of her stamina. Katerina knew they would stay with her as long as she could convey assurance that she was not in any danger.

Being surrounded by the Council of Nine evoked such power and information that it was almost too much for her mortal body to endure. Each of The Nine was unequaled in her individual expertise. And all that power was being focused into a narrow beam, directly at Katerina. Fortunately, the most illuminated teachers in their culture had trained Katerina all her life for such a passage.

The collective life force of The Nine permeated every cell of Katerina’s body, which resonated with an enhanced energy, supporting and shielding her from much of the impact of her transitions. Alone, she would not have been able to investigate so much, so quickly. Conversely, being assailed by their concentrated radiance was having a brutal impact on her physical form. Katerina was always able to enter her parallel lives without
the help of The Nine. In fact, she had entered into many parallel lives since being made aware of “him” a few months ago. In those unassisted visits, she could visit only one location per session, and then had to return home, resting for some extended period before traveling again. That process had proven to take far too long. It did, however, have its benefits.

Returning home between visits was necessary for Katerina’s mind and spirit to filter the visited life back into the generally unperceivable background of her unconscious mind. Interim filtering wasn’t happening today. This ritual was allowing Katerina to open up to alternate lives, giving each life predominance in her consciousness, just long enough to allow her to seek out what she needed to know, and then pull away from that place. Full disconnection from these lives would have to take place when she finally
returned home at the end of the ritual. Today she pushed herself forward as she never had before. More than just her life and her world depended on the outcome.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of
Sacred Vow are available from the author– or purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as it is reprinted in its entirety, along with the by-line.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Eternally Nearer

Eternally nearer than lovers entwined
Our worlds, infinitely disparate,
In this one place.
Neither move
Without inciting the other,
Unperceived by senses
Save the intuitive.
Release your fear,
As the veil dissipates.
Nothing bizarre emerges,
For I have always been here.

copyright 2007 CG Walters

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of
Sacred Vow are available from the author– or purchase as ebook or the Amazon Kindle version

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as the entire article and complete by line is included.