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Episode of February 6, 2004

Ariel illustration

I went into the cathedral, as always, but there were no votives burning on the altar and the cathedral was vacant. Normally I can just go instantly from the cathedral aisle up to the loft on the upper right where I always go, but I couldn’t get there this time. So I got the idea of just floating up a spiral staircase to the loft—no effort whatsoever to do this.


I plopped down and looked to the left where a side door hung open. Outside the blazing sun greeted me. Then a woman walked in with a veil about her head, an Italian woman. She sat down in the second pew right on the aisle, knelt down, and began to pray.


Again I decided to go up above, but I felt resistance. Usually I just morph through the roof of the cathedral, or as in the last visit go up through the hatch. So I sat down again. Pretty soon, I was suddenly above the roof, but this time it was nighttime. A deep navy blue sky littered the stars blinking P…E…A…C…E spread out in front of me—two sections with the stars blinking P…E…A…C…E in great big sparkly star-gold.


I stood there for a while beckoning my Troupe to appear. I called out several times, but they came into the picture on the left through a pathway bordered with white and gold columns. Oddly, the sun was shining on them—just on them. The rest of the environment up there was still deep navy blue. The Troupe had on lovely, flowing pale blue robes with white and gold trim—robes that moved with their bodies as they swayed slightly, proceeding two-by-two through the pathway in a column. The pathway ended just before it reached my forward view. They kept going before me and to the right …

Then a new image appeared: the setting was deep forest green lush foliage, in the middle of which was an endlessly tall but gentle waterfall, sparkling in gold and white. It was dark except for the light shining on the waterfall from above. I asked for Ariel. “Where is Ariel? Is she here?”


Ariel—the same gold figure—materialized behind the waterfall. She stood there like a statue untouched by the water, while the gold and white water fell before her like jeweled beads. She has the feel of a Bali dancer as shown in Thai art with the pointy headdress, but clad in a Grecian robe of clingy, soft, flowing material. Her features are oriental and her face expressionless. She has her hands in the Yoga starting position—hands pressed together before her with fingers pointing to the sky. She has great presence. Her vibe emits supreme confidence, compassion, possessor of unlimited wisdom, imperial but approachable. This time I feel a little less in awe of her, which is certainly a new feeling for me, as this Leo has never before been in awe of anybody. This time, I also feel that eventually I will be able to approach her and get to know her. I also feel that I can learn from her—lots.


I asked for the Troupe again (they keep disappearing, which is their way of playing around). Oh, there they are—they are sprites again, entering on the right beneath the waterfall, forming a moving circle about Ariel. Oh, that is such an unbelievably beautiful sight: the deep, dark green foliage for a background, the light shining on the gold and white droplets of the waterfall, golden Ariel standing serenely behind the waterfall, the sprites flitting about her, glittering in seafoam green and white and gold. They are so tiny in this vignette, like little fairies in comparison to Ariel.


Then suddenly I found myself in a mountain village in Italy, outside a small, one-room schoolhouse nestled on the side of the mountain. Beautiful warm, sun shining. The sunlight suggests late spring, mountain noontime. Then the children came running to the school from the left, all boys in their shorts, some of them wearing kneesocks but others don’t (Italian boys usually wear sandals and no socks), so eager to get to school, in the side door, and into their seats. Excitement bubbled from their chatter. The atmosphere crackles with their anticipation. Their teacher is there already, standing in front of them, expecting them. He is male and young, an inspirational teacher whom the boys adore—he exudes warmth, acceptance of them, enthusiasm for his teachings, tremendous belief in their desire and ability to learn from him. The boys have a strong, unbreakable bond with him. He is the joy of their young lives.


They sit there in rapt attention. He tells them, “All right, today we are going to do meditation: hands on desks, feet on floor, heads up, eyes closed. Pick a feeling to think about. Anything. Whatever appeals to you: love, peace, joy, kindness, compassion, understanding … Concentrate on that feeling, just that feeling. Let nothing else in but the feeling you have chosen. And eventually, when we get really good at doing this, we might—we just might learn something truly great, truly inspirational. But first we must practice by sitting still, paying attention, concentrating until eventually we get really good at this. Then, there is no telling where this will lead us—to knowledge that can change our lives.”


At that point, I blinked and returned back in the loft of the cathedral. I looked down and the same Italian woman was still in the pew below. She sent me a telepathic message to join her, which I did. Her arm circled my shoulder. We sat together saying nothing for a little while; we felt very close. She then whispered, “Now we can go outside together.” We went through the side door through which she had entered the cathedral earlier. Outside the sunshine blinded me—so brilliant it hurt the eyes.


End of episode.