This is a post I would never have dreamed of writing, until a few weeks ago – the night of February 18th, to be exact – and the fact that I was given time to run indoors for my camera. It isn’t easy to talk about clairvoyance, telepathy or contact with extra-terrestrial ‘friends and family’ (to put it mildly) in a world that privileges the mentality of ‘seeing is believing’. Some brave souls do; my eldest great-aunt was interviewed on radio about reincarnation in the 1950s, much to the consternation of the family.
For the purposes of this post I will focus on telepathy, personal experience, and inter-generational patterns, as I discovered a few years ago in a memorable conversation with my grandmother. Quite ‘out of the blue’, she spoke to me of her childhood experiences of telepathy – or in her case, involuntary, overwhelming mental bombardment with other people’s thoughts. She related that by the age of eight, and especially at school, being immersed in a continuous wash of other children’s thoughts (not all of them pleasant) became so distressing that she deliberately constructed a psychic ‘wall’ around her mind to screen out the mental chatter. No one taught her how to do this, but she succeeded, and effectively blocked the cross-currents of her classmates’ thoughts and emotions. It astounded me to hear this story; it was sad to feel what we had not shared all those years, yet also wonderful. Why? Because I had done exactly the same thing, at the same age, and by some strange fortune, at the same school! When I turned eight, my family moved from Perth (Western Australia) to Hobart (Tasmania). We stayed until the end of that first year in the house where my grandmother had grown up. I went to her old school for a term…and reached a level of mental ‘in-flow’ from others that I couldn’t handle, so built walls to create a ‘safe space’.
I will never know now what my grandmother did with her enclosed sensitivity, but for me, it was the beginning of creating an internal yet distant world that would become peopled with a race of symbiotes who ‘walked in each other’s thoughts’ and communicated telepathically as naturally as breathing. This world became the basis of Siaris, and the quartet of novels currently underway. The novels’ characters grew into people with their own stories and complexities, but their form and nature changed very little from those early imaginings.
Perhaps bringing Siaris out of its private ‘sanctuary’ into the public arena as a set of fantasy novels gave me a personal ‘push’ as well…to dismantle the mental wall built in childhood and allow/encourage my ‘inner antennae’ to function again. To detail that dismantling (still in progress) would take a book, so I’ll just say here that it has been – and is – a profound, ongoing act of love, with rewards that are incalculable. Rewards which took me out to the front driveway of my house on February 18th, night of Jupiter conjuncting the Moon. Three days earlier, I had asked those I am in contact with (ETs, space brothers, light beings, star family, call them what you will) for a piece of ‘3D evidence’ of their presence/reality to share with others. As I stood looking at Jupiter ‘touching’ the Moon, my vision altered and Jupiter appeared a golden colour. I had a strong sense of a presence there and, on receiving a confirmation, headed inside for my camera. By the time I returned (about 30 seconds) a beautiful lightship had appeared above the Moon, with a central blue disc shape rimmed in silver, pink and violet. Here are the photos:
Lastly, I’ll leave you with a little excerpt from Reunion, second novel in The Siaris Quartet, where the human viewpoint character, Ravin, has a breakthrough moment:
Ravin stepped out of the water-stream and picked up a towel. The whisper ran through his head but he didn’t respond. How many times had he invented Lenea’s voice, played with its subtle timbre and wrapped it around the lonely space inside his chest?
He paused in the motion of towel-drying his legs and leaned against the cubicle wall in sudden shock. A thread, almost invisible, stretched in front of his mind’s eye, strung with tiny particles of light that hung like golden pearls before him.
The breath burst from his lungs. Lenea?
Oh, well done, my love. Lenea’s mental voice brushed into him, raising gooseflesh on his damp skin.
Ravin couldn’t help laughing. I didn’t do anything!
Exactly. You relaxed and let your subtle mind do its work. I knew you could.
Oh gods, Lenea! The reality sank into Ravin’s whirling mind. I – we’re talking. You’re with me.
Always with you, ciria.
The pearls quivered on the thread, as if blown by a brisk wind. Their sharp movement soaked into Ravin’s brain – and he understood they signaled turmoil in his Hiniran lover. Lenea love, what are you thinking?
Ravin, we need to meet. Can you leave the city?
Ravin hesitated. Lenea hadn’t answered his question, but he let it go. He did a quick mental assessment of the various shafts leading out of Dominas into the hills of the Vale. The least-used passages were those closest to the summits, especially in the quiet hours before dawn.
He tried sending a picture along the thread. So fine, but it held steady and absorbed the image he imprinted. A white platform sunken into the blue heights of a hill facing northwest, a slim-line door decorated in a pattern of silver, dim in the bronze light.
All right, my love. I’ll be there.
The thread dissolved. Ravin shivered. The heat of Lenea’s presence ran through his limbs as if they’d just made love, as if her spellsheen had loosed silken arousers around his flesh. Looking down, he snorted. He needed another shower – a cold one.
Well, it always pays to keep a sense of humour! I’ll leave you to make up your own minds…though I have taken poetic license here: for me, it seems not so much like a string of pearls as a line of warm diamond light….