PROLOGUE
Life has become very dire. Very repetitive and despairing. It is a circle going round and round. All efforts, all good intentions, turn to rot and ruin almost immediately. Some corrosive influence is responsible. A retardant added into the mix. But what and who and why?
It’s not always been like this. No. There was progress once. There was excitement and adventure once. But those days seem like another lifetime. Memories are now only of this mere existence captured in this illusory prison cell. In this land which I despise so much. Months and months spent planning and attempting to break out through these unbreakable walls …
Years of chipping away at the mortar with no hope. Times spent with silent tears and lonely torment. Then an opening arrived. I managed to escape the prison. Only for fate to manufacture a return.
Again, recently another doorway has appeared in the wall. An opportunity taken. A promised chance to escape. But, more frustration. Days and weeks of impatience for the chance to cross back into the Northern Hemisphere.
The gloom surrounds me. A negative spell. I can’t wait to escape. But my life partner is still pessimistic. The escape won’t herald sufficient finances to help pull us out of the pit in which we have sunk. I’m despairing again. The hints are I’ve to ditch this chance and stay in this godforsaken part of the world. I’ve no intention.
My spirit drives me onwards. Fate calls me back to the Northern Hemisphere. There is nothing here in the south for this Merlin. No magic which astounds me. No energies that captivate me. Other than around the Glass Top Mountains in Queensland. There was a glimmer of mysticism there. Nothing more.
But not enough to interest me to remain here. Not when my pathway ahead unfolds and I can see through the mists. My life is back in Europe. It is screaming out at me to notice.
I cannot ignore any longer these calls. I’ve responded to the wishes of others for too long. At the detriment of my own choices. Through five years of hardship, I am tempered and strengthened. I am a reservoir of strength, determination and resolution. I’ve survived so much. Events which have unfolded, which I’ve endured without ever analysing or reviewing. I yearn a break in the storm to go through each one to understand what took place and why.
Remaining here I cannot do that. Remaining in this soul biting wind will only obliterate my potential not bring it to the surface.
I am a vibrational being very sensitive to the energies around me. I respond best to sound. The vibrations here are harmful. I sense frequencies of ‘dumbing down’ in the air; in the food; in the water; in all of the life around me. I know and I feel. Invisible vibrations. A threat when someone is unaware. Like most around me who are oblivious. Not knowing their awareness is closing down. Is being shut down by threatened agencies. The clues are all around me. I’m aware so therefore I can minimise the effects. I can make myself immune to its effects whilst I remain.
This I understand to be the source of my aggression and my frustration. Which only races through me like impatience. But I need to address this in more detail in order to overcome its hold. It’s built around me gradually during my time in this prison land. Effectively, as I’ve not been empowered to do anything about it. I’d endured four years of exile from my home land. It was torture, especially as I’d not wanted to leave in the first place. I’d made the mistake of trying to please my life partner without truly expressing how I felt about it. So it’s my own fault really. A true bad experience. A back fire.
Now is the chance to do something about it. A sense of impending doom as I know I will have to desert the sinking ship in order to embark on the magical path I know I must. Like I know I have no choice in the matter. My arts and my creative pursuits are turning to dust here. They will continue to do so with the energies of lethargy and non-encouragement which are around me. The air is of laziness and apathy. These are harmful to me. I need energies of encouragement, a little like those in the French Foreign Legion without the hard labour. This is what I know I need.
I lack the discipline to fine tune my arts. I need the driving force I had momentarily some fifteen years ago. I need to perfect what I bear. Here, I will not. I cannot. I shall not. For there is nobody here who can help. I’ve transmitted the frequency ever since I’ve been here. What has come back is of no use to me. One soul was attuned on the same sort of level here. But that contact is lost.
Whilst out of the prison cell, working in the Middle East, I had the fortune to be put on the same path as one in the UK. He was of the same wavelength as me, but at a lower frequency. The first I’ve met. He was conversing with the same entity as me; on the same tact. This I took to indicate that I had to be back in the Northern Hemisphere.
This acted as a pointer as to the where I should be. But it doesn’t explain the how and the why or the who. It fails to explain or reveal the big picture. That level of perception which I adopt most of the time. That which I adopt in time like this when I try to see beyond the square; putting my existence into perspective by trying to link with the greater me. Indeed that part of me which isn’t me at all. For it is the elusive & fabled part which has been the subject of greater debate in spiritual quarters for aeons. That being the higher me; the inner me; the separate me. That which is the controller of the human being or the conscious me. That which is merely part of the human existence that is programmed to be as it is within these mazes.
When I try to extend myself to that perspective I see a totally different picture. I see the timeless player. The games player. It is a totally different world then which is around me. I become aware of the invisible strings of influence that has driven me through this ‘life’ and continues to influence me. I sense then its consciousness and its awareness within my own thoughts and actions. Indeed I sense too it is the source of the impatience. I am aware perhaps of a wrong turning …
But this fails to answer the fundamental questions of ‘who’, ‘why’ and ‘how’. For that I need to delve into my own psyche; into my own experiences; into my own history. I need to commence analysing that which has befallen me in order to comprehend what lies ahead. It is the old anomaly of judging a book by its cover or not seeing the wood for the trees. I’ve plodded on in this lifetime accepting all which has befallen me. Making sense of the surface layer of my psyche without truly scratching the surface into the deeper meaning. I’ve made assumptions and acting on them. This appears to have been a near fatal mistake as life is at a dead end. I’ve done something wrong.
I need therefore to go back … along the path … square by square to look at the terrain for missing pieces and clues. I know they will be there as it is the greater self which is the urge behind these chapters.
But where to start? At the beginning? But which beginning … birth and the early years; the beginning of psychic awareness; the beginning of psychic phenomena?? Because they are all clear and key beginnings in this life ….
Phenomena has always been an integral part of this life. So much so it goes un-noticed to an old hand at it. Forty one years of the phenomena and it becomes nothing out of the ordinary. It marks this life and has never truly been analysed. Visitations; lost time; projections; physical attacks by unseen invisible forces; contact with the dead and other dimensions … they are all there in this life. Now is the time to relive those and understand. Then in understanding them perhaps an identity can surface out of the mire.
That is the hope of these memoirs.
PART ONE
The First Descent
The chances of pinpointing all the necessary information which is concealed in my awareness is a perfect example of the proverbial needle in a haystack. Hopes stand at zero. Recollections are random at the best of times. Screened by the sub-conscious and the mind. Material obtained will be clouded with preconceptions and distorted by the sands of time. It is not accurate. It depends on the ability of the memory faculty to recall.
But then, many significant events spring to mind when I look back over the years. This is a constant daily thing. Triggers replay moments without a single encouragement from me consciously. Guilt, sorrow and regret always surface almost as if some malevolent force has total security clearance to my sub-conscious reference library. Almost as if it knows exactly where to look and exactly what to replay in my mind. It is most disconcerting. It is uncontrollable and it is scary. I can be concentrating on a work situation or negotiating a curve on a road, and a memory surfaces. I will drift back to that moment, with it feeling like it had just occurred. Yet it can be an event from twenty years previous. I relive it again complete with thoughts and feelings of the time. The pangs of regret or sorrow will then effect me for the rest of the day.
So, the prospect of a deliberate descent into the past memories; a wander into my subconscious hall of records, with this force on the loose in their somewhere, is not a pleasing prospect. I know many, many skeletons are hidden there. Many banana skins to rediscover too late. Many phantoms skulk there somewhere. Things I put on the back burner to deal with later. Well, it is raining outside and today is as good a time as any for that ‘rainy day’. Besides it is something that now needs to be done.
