It was as a result of some subtle energy produced by a Reiki treatment that I found it within me to swallow my last pending rejection by a publisher, and then make the decision not to be rejected again but to publish and distribute my books myself among a small circle of friends and relatives. I immediately felt cleansed to be independent.
In the wake of seeing the first proof of the cover a perilous excitement set in. This was preceded by a need to sit in someone else’s garden and sip coffee as the means to retreat and escape, to re-ground and re-balance. Those moments of “in-between” are always the best: the “after” doing something and “before” doing something else. Safe little letting goes. So without knowing to where we were headed, departing too early to find coffee in a pub, not knowing of a cafe with a garden and wanting not to travel too far afield, we found ourselves at a hotel in nearby Midhurst whose garden we had sampled once a long time before. It happened to be just the right garden for the occasion - a walled kitchen garden with patches of this and that, wide interesting borders and trimmed rose trees; the generous pot of coffee was exactly right, we had the place to ourselves, and the clouds in the rich blue sky performed a drama just for us.
We gave ourselves to this delicious time of in betweenness confidently until the moment came for the next thing which was exercise. I had in mind a local walk, one we had enjoyed once before, in autumn two years ago, but I could not quite recall where it was. However, I drove off in search of the place, in no doubt that the car would take us there; and it did.
The place was a woodland heath, a lonely spot, beautiful and full grown with bracken, with everything green and in great fruition on this full-summer day. The path took us deep into the woods, but now and then we could see through the hedgerows to golden harvested fields and the open downland beyond. I was ready for the walk and ready to give expression to a vision of what might happen as a result of exposing the book to a small part of the world. The clouds lent some relief to the blue and the heat, and Jean was willing, as always, to be taken along with the flow.
Suddenly I noticed that the beauty of the day was augmented by many butterflies and moths attracted by the humid heath-land scent, and the vision of what my book might achieve dovetailed with this natural moment. It felt like a clip out of Mary Poppins.
‘I think the best thing that could happen is if it spoke to someone in a place of power,’ I said to Jean, ‘like an important businessman, someone who can make things happen. If he realised he had a personal purpose here on Earth, that there is ‘life’ after death and the whole point is not just to make money or whatever, then he might, for example, feel compelled to save a rainforest or work on behalf of some person or animal who needs it. That’s what I want to do, just plant a seed in the right place that might then grow into a physical action.”
“It is a lot to ask. Why should any power-motivated businessman pick up the book in the first place?”
“Because of the crop circle on the cover? There is no serious explanation for that phenomenon. And it is a physical phenomenon - out of all the psychic things that happen, crop formations are the one thing that people, anyone, can go out and see for themselves, and feel the effects of. And everyone is affected in a different way, and each different formation attracts a different sort of person, just like art. So if the book ever came within his grasp he might just pick it up for that reason. Who knows. I don’t know. But the point is that now it is a possibility whereas before we published it, it wasn’t.”
It was very strange to have all these butterflies accompany us. We had to pause to watch a pair performing a dance, describing circles in the air and then chase each other like leaves come to life. An old song called, ‘Illusive Butterfly’ started to play itself in my head, ‘....don’t be concerned it will not harm you, it’s only me pursuing something I’m not sure of, across your dreams with nets of wonder, I chase the bright illusive butterfly of love...’.
I tested the sceptics like the businessman and my father through my talks with Jean, and she played a good devil’s advocate.
“But don’t forget,” she said, “that my early experiences, like the near-death one, helped me to be more ‘open’, as you say. It would be far less likely that someone who has not had acquaintance with some other-worldly experience will accept any part of the idea of the soul’s continuing journey. This person you are talking about, his whole life is built on solid ground. He would have to build it all over again if he were to accept the notion that he will retain his consciousness after his own death, and that he was here for a reason. I think it is too much to ask, especially of an older person, like your dad.”
“Well, if that crop circle plays its part, and if I have done a good enough job of introducing the subject, who knows... some small tiny spark of interest might linger even if I never get to know about it. Anyway, at least for now I feel that I am playing my part in a small way. I worry a bit that its overall sound is too religious. It is often a turn-off to mention the word God which I do right from the start. The word is so strong and loaded - people are very sensitive to it, in a different way for everyone. But if I never use that word, I have to use some unwieldy, self-conscious phrase like ‘universal energy source’ which carries some sort of trendy overtone all of its own. Either God is humanised or we, as part of the universal energy source, become dehumanised. Is there some other way of speaking of the subject that I’ve missed?”
“I can’t think of one. God has always managed to be anthropomorphic I think.”
“.....If I can cause my father, for instance, just to think about this subject, I will have achieved my goal. I mean, look how far you’ve come. You believe now that you have a purpose and that what you do and experience means something - whereas you didn’t before. Aren’t you pleased? Don’t you feel better now?”
She laughed. The path divided. One way led downhill through a wooded glade onto an open plain and the other through a high, iron kissing-gate and on down a narrow path between tall trees. Without hesitating I led the way through the gate and in a while it gave out onto a country lane, so we decided to turn and go back the same way for more butterflies.
“I don’t know,” she said, “I am right now trying to come to terms with the idea that I am not a cracked pot after all, and I don’t much like it. It seems to mean something is required of me that wasn’t before. I had a dream the other night. It was clear and vivid and it was a re-living of an experience I had as a child, of having to deliver a message to a person Mother owed money to. I think it was something to do with facing that threshold between childhood and adulthood. It was terrifying. I had to talk to a person on the phone when Mother was not there and explain that our money hadn’t been wired through yet from Indiana. I think that’s why I’ve been uncomfortable with the telephone ever since.
“I get to a place, I think I’ve told you before, when everything is going well and I’m pleased with myself, when I just wish that now I had got to the end, that now I could quit. Like passing an exam......no, I don’t mean suicide, I just mean that wouldn’t it be nice if it could stop now!”
“That’s your fear speaking.”
“It’s not fear is it? Or maybe you’re right. I just think that if something is expected of me what if I make a mistake?”
“There is no such thing as a mistake!” I said, referring, as she knew, to A Course In Miracles. Our every act, everything we do and are, is a part of one, single complete gesture. Don’t separate everything. Mind those gaps!”
“But here I am, 72 years old, and suddenly I realise I was here for a reason. I’ve never done anything with a view to there being a reason for it before. I always knew that the spirit leaves the body when we die, but I figured I’d find out why and where it goes when I get there. Now it seems that I might have been doing it all wrong!”
“I don’t think that’s right. You have always done what you thought was the right thing to do at the time - which is all anyone can do. Now you are developing a new awareness which you will begin to use in your own way and in your own time. I think it is a credit to you that you have discovered it at all in this lifetime! Every single sort of experience in every single form is significant. It is kaleidoscopic and infinite and everything is a part of the grand gesture, the grand design. Nothing is wasted. I take comfort in the knowledge that nothing is wasted.”
“I have been trying to contact my guides. But I have not succeeded. And I have done what Magda said, talked to them; and I’ve paid attention to my dreams. But I have not been making progress.”
“But perhaps you have made progress. If you are now using your intuition more to inform your decisions, that is the same as communicating with your guide. Don’t you feel that you are on the right path? If you were not doing the right thing don’t you think you would feel uneasy?”
“I suppose so.”
“Of course you would. Look at all you do: your morning at the hospice, you read The Book every day to keep remembering the connection; you support me in my endeavours (I’m pleased to say!); you maintain your true nature through your music with other people; there’s the Reiki, the first-aid course....and more. I think you’ve made great progress. But I’m sorry to have to tell you, it might never end! We get to have a rest from time to time, but as far as I can tell it just continues.....”
The butterflies followed us all the way back to the car. Another magic interlude. Another confirmation. A butterfly, I remembered, was a symbol of the soul in a state of transcendence.
The butterflies were there for me - we were the only ones in the woods that day, and it was by a particular series of events and choices that we wound up there. They would perhaps still have been there if I had not been there; but the point is that I was there; and I saw them, and I gave them a meaning. It could have been any meaning, it doesn’t matter - different things have different meanings for different people in different cultures. This meaningful synchronicity is positive thinking.
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