Star Woman in Love (4 page)

The yoga mat was rolled out on the floor. I lit the gas fire, slipped out of my pyjama and put on my leggings and a vest. I clang my Tibetan bells three times and proceeded to salute the Sun with a flow of graceful movements; they were like second nature to me. I loved this moment in my day. It seemed as if time stood still and offered space to potentiality. I called it contemplation through action. After my yoga session, I meditated for ten minutes and then did some journaling back in bed.

By 7 a.m. I needed my breakfast so I went back to the kitchen. Sam was taking a shower. He had left some hot coffee in the percolator. I poured myself a cup and put a slice of rye bread in the toaster. Just as the toast popped up, Gwen walked in. We sat at the table and talked about the dreams we had the night before. She always related her dreams to me. I had studied psychology as part of my undergraduate degree and developed an interest for dream analysis. My flatmate illustrated her dream of the previous night, which was about a river of music and light. To her surprise, I told her I had had a similar nocturnal experience. As we were reminiscing over the feelings associated with our dream, Brad, a black model from Chicago who was Gwen’s new lover, surfaced from her room. Everyone was up unusually early that day. It transpired that we’d all dreamt what seemed to be the same dream. We all roamed sound-filled, starry climes. While I had been woken up by my alarm, the other two had been jolted out of their slumber by a vivid semi-orgasmic sensation in their limbs that they had never experienced before. It had nothing to do with their intimate rendezvous, they swore. It seemed that we each had our own special take of the experience, and we all described it from the perspective of our own consciousness. There was no doubt whatsoever that we had landed in the same “place” during our sleep. That freaked them out. Gwen’s star might have been more colourful. Mine seemed more magical. Brad’s was more physical. But it was the same star nonetheless.

The coincidence of three people catching the same imagery and sensations during sleep, on the same night, was beyond statistics. I loved coincidences. The others didn’t. Gwen thought we had taken too much hash. Or perhaps our house was receiving dangerous radiations from some secret technical equipment. Brad did not really say much but kept staring at me, which I didn’t mind as he was quite easy on the eye.

Unlike them, I knew that star like the back of my hand. Sometimes I could even reach it through the power of my intention. That shared vision was fantastic news. I couldn’t wait to speak to Dr. Boyd at the School of Parapsychological Studies. She might help me figure out the full meaning of the event. This wasn’t the first instance of some metaphysical oddity in the house. After all, Piper’s Crescent lay on a very prominent ley-line, one of the Earth’s power-spots. I hoped this experience meant that the Plan was becoming manifest. If so, Dr. Boyd would be ecstatic. What about Lord and Lady Hughes? And Maria-Carmen and Lydia at the Godhead Society? I couldn’t wait to let them know what had happened.

For all my enthusiasm, there was definitely someone I wouldn’t want to inform of this odd occurrence: Gordon, my boyfriend. I knew he wouldn’t be interested in the slightest. He would find it funny, if not ridiculous. A veil of sadness descended on the crimson of my cheeks. I shook it off. Gordon was my ‘aspect out of balance’, and the fact was daunting. I still hoped it might change. That was no time for sentimentality though: I had to get going. The snow was still falling and the city was as pretty as a Christmas postcard. The day was alive with the promise of wonders ahead. My holy heart was singing because I had found the Key connecting me to my Birth Star, the Key that was going to kick-start my transformation. The Masters’ Plan was unfolding.

* * * *

Cassandra’s Diary, 2 January 1993

I’m writing this first thing in the morning, during my stay at Gordon’s house in the Borders for Hogmanay. He is sound asleep. By contrast, I could hardly sleep last night. But I woke up with a great sense of clarity. So I need to put pen to paper. Memories of my True Identity are flooding in. I have to capture them before they disappear like the faint memory of a lovely dream.

Throughout my childhood years, I could sense I was being observed. My mind was never completely alone. I was being tested. I wasn’t a normal child from the very beginning. I was acquainted with a lot of things long before life made me experience them. I taught myself to read and write, though my father insisted he was the one who helped me learn. But I deciphered the symbols of the alphabet myself. From a ripe young age, my memory would often be unfazed by the boundaries of time. I could even remember the day when I was born. And I could re-live it in my mind. There I was, being born! A human being! A girl! 

It did take me a while to get out of that tunnel, and I didn’t know how to do it. After all, I was experiencing this ‘while’, something that I was utterly unfamiliar with, for the first time, pondering as I was whether I’d made the right decision or not. But everybody in this Galaxy knows that the right decision is the one you’ve made or else! Once you’re in matter, once you materialise, it does indeed take this strange currency called time to change your mind. And time is a traitor sometimes. It makes you forget who you are, why you’re here, who you’re here with, and so on and so forth.

So there I was, having been stuck like a cork in a bottle for seventy-two hours, when at last, the full moon my accomplice, the final pull (that was actually my mum’s pushing) took me to the light. Born into sight of this world, into sight of the Earth. The Earth Game had started properly sometime in May the year before. I was born on Lovers’ Day, as I had intended, except that my consciousness had shrunk to such a tiny point I couldn’t remember any of this. I was a bundle of confusion, chaos, cells, a bombardment of sensations. In a second I couldn’t remember who I was, let alone the fact that I had decided to incarnate to find my Other Half, my Shadow Self, my Soul Mate, my Twin Soul, the King of my Alchemical Marriage.

Having been born a girl, I was the Queen (looking for the King), though things are not so neatly gender-defined in matters of the Soul. Looking meant making, or something along these lines. I half-remembered that. Did looking mean making an angel? What did looking mean anyway? That was new. And hearing? How weird it all seemed through these channels of experience humans use to sense the world. It was so painful, wobbly! So limited, so different. Fragmented. I felt as if I was the whole of creation squeezed into a tiny form. All I could do was scream my lungs out. The entire Universe was in me, here, howling its shrieks.

The thick dark hair on my head made me look like a mouse to my dad. But he was very happy and couldn’t hold back the tears when the nurse held me up in front of the window pane of the Birth Ward for him to see me. What I was thinking then was “Let go of the pain you’ve just experienced, let go, let go… forget, forget, forget… it’s worth nothing… that’s all there is to it… human… birth… one of the peak experiences to have… don’t cling to it… sure it’s your final life and you want to take your time…. But let go quickly or this pain will squirm through your heart… and squeeze out the memories of your True Identity... sleep, sweet one, sleep…” 

Pain was easy to let go of way back then, as my body had no previous frame of reference to connect it to. Being human felt like something was missing from the very beginning. It was that ‘something’ I was here to find. The symbolism of human birth is remarkable: separation from the Source is expressed so violently... it hurts so much that we all forget it... Yet we are here to remember... Not an easy game, this life on Earth. Perhaps on some level the human predicament may seem like a pretty, yet sad ‘fairy tale’ type of a story. Hopeless, even. A search for wholeness in a world of separateness.

Despite all the necessary difficulties that my human birth entailed, it was impossible for me to forget that I was here because of my choice. I knew I should remember that everything and everyone in my life was meant to remind me of me, that life reflected me back, and that the Universe would help me find completeness again. I had to hold that vision. I was looking at the world through my own eyes. My little life story, as insignificant as it may have seemed to an onlooker, would be informing all of my experience while I was incarnate, whether I was observing it consciously or reacting to it subconsciously. The outcome of the accuracy of my choices could be life as an angel. The Earth herself was calling out for angels...

My long and difficult birth had made me a very aloof child who was often reluctant to take part in mundane activities. I found solace in my own company and shied away from that of other people. I preferred my mind and what it came up with to watching telly. I didn’t listen to other people’s opinions and I often knew before they expressed them that they were biased. I was bright, very bright: my Core-Light was fully switched on. Even in my mother’s womb I could figure things out. I would listen to those muffled conversations beyond ‘the Veil’ of her flesh. I could feel the energy of her surroundings. I could tell changes in her swinging moods and visualise them in different colours. I could even tell what the world around her looked like: I could picture it in my mind without having laid my eyes on it.

Of course, I recognised the invisible visitors from my early years. And I envisaged that dad would abandon mum and me when I was still a little girl. And that mum would leave me too. I knew right from the inception that there was someone who would never desert me, even though at times he’d want to. I’ve not met him in manifest life yet, though his spirit is strongly connected to mine. That someone isn’t Gordon, as much as I try to convince myself otherwise. When my powers grow stronger, I will find the strength to let him go. Not yet though. But soon, I guess, the day will come when I can show the world that there’s so much more to me than meets the eye. From the day I was conceived, I’ve had what they call the gift of prophecy. I call it coming from the future. My purpose in life is calling me to accept my function in the Masters’ Plan. I am not going to fight it anymore. My human side is frightened. I have to let my soul take care of it.

______________

Edinburgh, February 1993

The eve of my twenty-fifth birthday arrived shrouded in a cloak of sorrow so heavy I wouldn’t outgrow it for a few months. I didn’t feel I was about to get any older. I didn’t believe in aging. Such were the preoccupations of those who didn’t know the Truth. But Gordon branded a scorching mark onto the focus of my attention. He ended our relationship so badly, like a coward, choosing the norm against the almost impossible wonders that I’d always hinted at, that I had so lovingly and generously prepared for him. Not that I could tell him the secret I held. It wasn’t stuff for the uninitiated.

He had grown weary of my mysterious ways, I could concede that. But I had hoped that he could continue to be magnetised by my charms and generous sexual know-how. The promise of another world could wait until the day he could become part of it. In the end he didn’t want to play along with me. Instead he chose to become involved with someone else who was older than me and him, and by all means my inferior in intelligence and beauty. What could I expect of him? He was a creature of the Earth, so he let his earthly nature have the best of the angel heart I had tried to plant in him, to no avail.

Earlier that night, in a candle-lit restaurant on the Castle Esplanade, I faced up to my fears about my future with Gordon, or the lack of one. I had always dreaded the thought that our relationship wouldn’t last through to the Shift of Paradigm set to culminate in 2012. My most recent concerns, however, had been of a much more human nature. Something had gone very, very wrong. He was cheating on me. Having imbibed half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc to ease my nerves and after a very expensive dinner he was going to pay for, I confronted him.

“Did you sleep with Linda?”

He didn’t expect that. His blue eyes turned serious, deep, and then angry. There was a long silence. He was shaking.

“I only had a one-night stand with her, two months ago. You had your exams and no time for me, and I’m a man... Now she’s pregnant. This is the real headache...”

Responsibility towards others had never been his forte. I could hardly breathe but I tried my best to articulate my words as if I wasn’t hurt.

“You’re such an idiot. Were you ever going to tell me or did you expect me to find out by other means?”

He seemed surprised at my strength, and so was I. Courage is in my stellar nature after all, and it had come to my rescue. I stood up, shot him a cold glance and said: “Don’t even try to follow me.” 

With dignity and poise I walked away from him and the pain he’d inflicted. I even gyrated my hips in what I thought was a sexy stride. Luck was on my side and I found a taxi waiting at the rank by St Giles’ Cathedral. I managed some chit-chat with the driver on the way to Piper’s Crescent. The journey only took five minutes at night. When I arrived, I climbed the stairs up to my apartment focusing on my breath not to panic. Once I hit the silence of my room, I broke down in sobs. Gwen and Sam woke up. My body was shaking in misery, uncontrollably. My mind could hardly grasp what had happened. My ego had just brought me down to my knees. I couldn’t fight it any longer: my human side had surrendered to desperation.

* * * *

The room was dark when we arrived and gathered around Cassandra. She was lying on her bed, fully dressed, with her coat and scarf still on. A few seconds later her flatmates entered the room and switched the lights on. They sat on her bed and started asking questions. Gwen caressed her back, trying to calm her down. We tried to help our inconsolable friend by sending her positive energy and Light. The cloak of sadness around her heart made it more difficult than usual for us to connect with her.