The first chapter of an ever expanding series is now available at Running Fox.
Het eerste hoofdstuk van een alsmaar groeiende reeks is nu beschikbaar op Running Fox.
Confused and obviously blindsided because of the whole event, she looked around a bit panicked. She was wondering; how could this have happened? It all feels so far off, yet also so gruesomely close. A small glimmer of sunlight shone through the ceiling, the gaping hole she just fell through. It didn’t seem to offer her a lot of solace. There she lie, somewhere in the middle of a dark obscure place. A big bump, underneath her thick hair, somewhere at the back of her face provided her with an even grander inconvenience. While she carefully tried to assess the damage with her left hand, she vaguely heard the voices of her 2 younger brothers at the surface. Although she truly felt the urge to scream for help, or as a human expression of fear, somehow she just couldn’t bring it out. The tumble had simply usurped to much of her energy. Her skin felt clammy and excessively sweaty as a repulsive sense of nausea seemed to control her entirely. Overruled by an irregular breathing, it didn’t take long before she felt becoming lighter and lighter, unto a point that she would ultimately lose consciousness. The shock was clearly too much for her and slowly she fainted.
Though, after a seemingly brief while, she opened her eyes. Disillusioned she asked herself this time where in the world she was at, and what had just occurred. The nagging ache at the back of her head had still not disappeared. But contradictive as things can be, it was capable of delivering her a friendly service. After all, it shaped the ultimate memory of the fact that she fell down here only a short moment ago. She looked up, that little spark of daylight from earlier seemed to have disappeared. The space she found herself in appeared to be darker than before. As to the voices, they too were gone. So now what? She was all alone, in a dark space, a place that according to a number of local legends may be haunted. Of course, of this she was deeply aware as to her and her 2 younger brothers it formed the absolute reason to play exactly within this area. At the old mill behind the cemetery, which is certainly no place for little children.
She desperately tried to stand up, not knowing whether she should be scarier to the reaction of her stern deeply religious rather conservative parents that forbid her ever to play here, or that fearing the possible authenticity of a sinister legend would be more in place. Nevertheless she knew, if she could once manage to get out of here, that all those tears at the dress fabricated by her mother would surely reveal her naughtiness. Despite her anxiety, she mustered all of her courage and she decided to closer investigate the physical space around her. However, as if she wasn’t in enough trouble already, at the same time she realized that earlier on the day also her shoes got stolen. One of the tormentors out of her school class, who had always considered her to be an eccentric girl, had taken them away during a game of hide and seek. As she performed the task fully devoted, kneeled with her face towards the tree counting from one to hundred, she was never truly aware of it. She could merely recall his teasing traits after the moment she had completed the counting. Without thinking about it he had thrown the footwear into the ditch with a big swing, subsequently to run away vociferously laughing. Yet now, to make it even worse, she felt all kind of things crawling around her bare feet. Perchance worms, mice or maybe something else? Oh well, to know everything doesn’t make you happy. Never earlier did she want to take the true of a proverb to heart so willingly.
It describes an unhappy day out of the life of an eighteen year old young woman, a lovely appearance with tall dark brown curled hair and big deep blue eyes, blessed with the fairylike name Mathilde. She takes us back halfway the year 1834, to one of those numerous little villages in the northeast of the Dutch province of Groningen. With her two younger brothers, and a somewhat older disabled sister, she didn’t particularly enjoyed the random carefree life that anybody would probably like her to experience. Her father, during the day always working as a carpenter, was necessarily the only bread winner since her mother was already doing anything she could to run the household. Unnecessary even to mention that the expectations of Mathilde, as the sane girl with a heart beating at the right place, were more than just those necessary requests. Next to the usual care for her brothers and sister there were furthermore the demanding church services at Sunday, and of course the lessons at school she tried to follow to the best of her ability. As one of the older students she had received the benefit of assisting the teacher during his versatile lessons. Even though she always clung to the idea of fulfilling such assignments with absolute passion, she also possessed a totally different side.
At Saturday afternoons, like this one, her parents always granted her the freedom to flee the sober musty house for a while, that place where they had to live all together. Though, during such occasions her parents always expected her to take her 2 brothers in tow. Without further questioning who was doing a favor to who, she liked to do it nonetheless. They would mostly end up at this very ominous place, the old abandoned mill of the village. Notwithstanding the stern often severe warnings of her parents and even from other villagers, she came to this location in order to play hide and seek together with her brothers, under the prerequisite that they would keep their mouths shut. This they did, and without taking it all to serious, they found it at least just as exciting as her older sister. Only today something very unpleasant had taken place, something that may cause the deeper secrets of a teenage girl to come closer into the light. Secrets which to many, especially considering the era wherein it all happened, would symbolize an absolute taboo.
On a conscious level Mathilde had always known that she possessed a gift of a mediumistic nature. To her it was perfectly normal to notice humanoid manes at the cemetery, but certainly also at all those other places she was at. During several, rather vivid dreams, she was already being told not ever to speak about it. They solely told her that whatever she was witnessing entails nothing else than souls apparently stuck between the realm of the living and the kingdom of the so called death. To a personality as Mathilde it was naturally inevitable quickly to come to the conclusion that they too, not unlike anyone around her, were in reality the same kind of souls, though as a human being necessarily provided with a fleshly body. Little isles of conscious as she always called it within her thoughts. Since her way of reasoning didn’t actually concur with the many dogmas as teached by the local church, she was at all times painstakingly conscious of the fact that her gift would sooner depict her as a potential misbeliever instead of a valiant pioneer.
But last year, late in the afternoon while sweeping the school library, a specific book had drawn all of her attention. Suddenly there it was, at the wooden floor, right in front of her nose. A book that carried the promising title; Journey of the soul. She had it carefully dusted and she started to browse through the pages. Of course, for a young lady like Mathilde reading the English language formed no problem at all. In the course of her short life she had already mastered it substantially. Though after turning the first few pages she clearly felt the presence of her teacher behind her back. ‘No Mathilde, this is not a nice book to read. Its contents are of a devilish nature. I think to avoid further trouble, it is best that you put it back.’ With no further questions she did at first sight exactly what was being asked of her. She had put it neatly on one of the many shelves. However, she had deliberately made the back of the book sticking out, so she could retrieve it more easily some time later. And then at the beginning of the evening, a short while before going home, she knew how to smuggle it with her underneath her clothes. Meanwhile, after reading it time and again it is still safely stored under her mattress, ready to keep inspiring.
Just this one thought kept haunting continuously through her mind, something she couldn’t comprehend. All she knew was that she was stuck at this moment, locked in a room where she despite her special gift, didn’t want to stay by her very lonesome. Desperately she felt that a wave of misery endeavored to swallow her one piece at a time.
A while later, time had lost its grip entirely. Sensations of loneliness and utter alienation for what was once her normal life, had made place in a subtle way for the ultimate survival instinct. Loudly she attempted to draw the attention of the outside world, the reality above her head. Never before had she cherished such a strong desire. While screeching in a state of tremendous fear, she became eventually aware of a vague light, it approached her slowly. Would her desperate attempts be awarded after all? A masculine voice, in the distance, assured her there was no need to be afraid. ‘Salvation was near.’ In the meanwhile, the bundle of light became more and more blinding. Until, Mathilde could finally see that the source came from an old oil lamp. The contours of an old man manifested gradually in front of her eyes. He crawled through the muddy soil, in Mathilde her direction, whereas he kept reiterating that one sentence. ‘Don’t be afraid, salvation is near.’ She waited in fear, as she emitted the words; ‘a.. are you the spirit of the old miller?’
The man, by now straight across her, started to laugh clearly amused. ‘But little girl.. do I truly look so terrifying? Nay.. indeed I live within the mill, but I am not anything like a scary ghost. Come on, I shall take you upstairs and show you the one and only truth.’
And so it happened, the mysterious yet at first glance benevolent appearance, led her upstairs in a wayward manner and consequently took her to the infamous mill, that place feared by so many. Once inside, he requested her to take a seat. In the meantime, he would make them a strong cup of coffee. Mathilde did exactly as he requested and quickly usurped a comfortable chair. An enormous relieve came over her as she slowly assimilated the halcyon crackle of a convivial grate fire. The interior of this place didn’t feel as scary or as negative as she had previously expected. Just the opposite, it felt rather cozy or in some regards even serene. Among other things, she had find the courage, placidly to let go of all her thoughts. This place seemed utterly eligible. Something she, until that moment, just couldn’t declare. After a small fifteen minutes of waiting, the old man had returned with a pot of hot coffee, some milk, sugar and two outdated coffee cups. Though, when he headed towards his snug kitchen for a second time, he returned with something entirely different. ‘Do you still recognize them?’ he asked her with a smile. ‘H.. how is that possible? Those.. those are not.. the shoes, that were taken away from me only a brief instant ago?’ Mathilde stuttered. The man now started to laugh aloud and provided, ultimately done laughing, both cups with coffee. ‘The rest is self service.’ he told her.
‘Al right, I believe this time I just owe you a proper explanation. Mathilde, your name I already knew, for eighteen years now. Because as my granddaughter, I observed you for so many times. Your parents purposely kept me away from you, your little brothers and sister because of my divergent, yet often misunderstood gifts. Even my existence on this place they concealed permanently. This is the place, where I in all secrecy spend my days, per forced as a lonely recluse. Some people, only they whom coincidentally know it, fear my personality, whereas others attempt to think I am just an old man, subjected to the phenomenon of time.’
As to my bodily features they are absolutely right, but in regards to my soul..’ A brief silence arose. After a short breather Mathilde resumed the conversation with a half sentence; ‘but, if you believe in a soul than..’ ‘Yes Mathilde, in that case my gifts and talents must be of the very same nature as yours. Then I just have to be the author of a book written in English.. a book safely hidden underneath the mattress of a young soul, a work named; Journey of the soul. During one of my several out of body experiences I had already seen it all. But rest assured, I will not speak about it. Still you need to understand that, although time is a naturally extendable concept, in this reality it’s not possible or even recommendable, to announce spiritual verities. Nowadays, one is not yet ready for this, though between now and the next 150 years, a gradual change shall take place in the hearts of humanity as a collective. Some kind of transition, something that entails a totally different era.’
The words of the recluse with a grand heart obviously knew how to touch Mathilde deep into her soul. She felt a universal truth in every regard. In the middle of the night he eventually dropped her off at home, and after knocking the door, at the first signal of light in the residence, he wisely left. ‘We‘ll see each other again. As soon as the time decides.’
The family was once again reunited, and even though everybody involved seemed to be grateful forever for a wonderful reunion, Mathilde never left a word about the encounter with her grandfather, out of fear for further repercussions. Some legends could best remain an enigma. Albeit the time of playing hide and seek at the old mill was definitely over, and a privilege she was truly hoping for would never befall her, never had she seen her living grandfather again.
But did her grandfather not succeed at keeping a relatively simple promise? Oh yes, Mathilde lived a happy and especially a long life, until once the time had come in the terrestrial year of 1904, that she on an elderly age in the presence of her many children and grandchildren, filled with peace was finally allowed to leave her body.
Blessed with the rays of a new morning sun, she stepped into the small boat and sailed to the other side of the vast shore. Two manly figures were already patiently waiting for her presence. One of them she recognized immediately as her deceased husband. He had gone some years earlier and smiled peacefully to her. The other figure was a bit bleary, until he eventually stood up.. a lot of pieces were suddenly falling into place. ‘Now do you see Mathilde, time never lies.’ Her grandfather observed her arrival with lots of rejoice, and three hearts appeared to be reunited in love. They would never have to let go of each other again.
We are One; there is no separation. Separation is of the illusion, and as such is, for you, very realistic – in the same way that nightmares can seem very real, forcing you awake, sweating and in terror. Well, the illusion, that state of dreaming in which you are enveloped, interspersed with horrific nightmares, is crumbling, because you no longer whole-heartedly support it. Humanity has made the decision collectively to awaken, and that entails withdrawing its support from the illusion.
Signs of this are everywhere as all that has been kept secret, hidden, dark, is starting to be revealed, shocking many of you. And it is only the start. So much has been hidden by those who would keep you enslaved, enabling them to “justify” wars – on drugs, illiteracy, aids, cancer, heart disease, poverty, unemployment, terror, etc. – which strengthen their positions of authority and privilege. No more! The…
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Oneness can no longer be denied! Cutting edge science knows, because their experiments have demonstrated it conclusively, that everything is connected to everything else, there is no separation. In the everyday world, where the majority of humans focus their attention as they earn their livings, separation is self-evident, but that is because of how you focus your attention on your bodily needs, identifying with them and with their survival, and with their avoidance of pain, and your desire for pleasure through them. In the illusory world bodies seem very real because you live through them, gaining all your experiences and sensations through your so-called five senses. But those are limiting thoughts that you believe are real, and by holding those limiting beliefs you therefore make them real. In fact there are no limits! The limits that you experience are part of the…
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The Galactic Federation of Light
”Like the stream of a placid cascade, so do we live in those hearts with eyes open to a new and enchanting true.”
The first chapters of an ever expanding alternating story between me, and my dear friend Mara Oldenburg is now available at Running Fox.
Please feel welcome to check out the link below.
De Galactische Federatie van het Licht
”Zoals de stroom van een vreedzame waterval, zo leven wij in die harten met ogen openstaand voor een nieuwe en betoverende waarheid.”
De eerste hoofdstukken van een alsmaar uitbreidend wisselverhaal tussen mij, en mijn goede vriendin Mara Oldenburg zijn nu beschikbaar op Running Fox.
Voel u welkom om de onderstaande link eens nader te bekijken.
Jesus Audio Blog for Sunday February 7th
On Earth chaos seems to be erupting in many places like volcanoes! Change is accelerating as awareness also erupts due to whistle blowers and alternate news web sites publishing information that has long been kept secret as part of the intention by the very few to control and enslave the rest of humanity. This new awareness cannot be contained. There are organizations intent on crushing it or ridiculing it in order to prevent the old order from collapsing.
However, due to the ongoing enormously expanding communication abilities allowing anyone to communicate instantly with anyone else anywhere on the planet, dark and sinister secrets can no longer be kept hidden. Consequently those who have for eons been used and abused by those who have taken power by stealth and corruption are now becoming evermore aware of how their trust in authority has been exploited…
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