The Scribes 4: Retro conjuring and Elohim’s blessings

The Scribes 4: Retro conjuring and Elohim’s blessings

1 October 2017

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Scribe 23 had now recovered from her disappointment and despair at having ruined the ceremony of releasing the primal. The Master had not come to visit her for a couple of weeks after the incident when a hurried act needed to be carried out instead of the beautiful ceremony that so many scribes had hoped to witness. She was not sure at first whether it was because she had caused the incident but he soon reassured her that it was simply because he was too busy with other ventures.

She walked around aimlessly in the house as she had already conjured all the items the people from the neighbouring cities requested with the help of all the energies that were available as well as to the residual energy in her heart. She realised that Elohim had only sucked the excess energy but left her enough to conjure all the imtes. Such was the power of the Masters that they knew to the milligram of energy what would be required. She sighed and thought to herself that she must forget this unfortunate event and look forward to when new items would be needed again for conjuring. Unfortunately now nobody would need her to conjure anything for several weeks. She realised that this meant she must keep away from the sun or she would involuntarily soak in more energy and risk reaching a point of combustion.

It was while she was walking aimlessly that the Master arrived. As usual she could feel his presence but not see his face. It seemed that he was not yet ready to disclose fully his identity and show his face.

  • I need you to come with me, he said
  • Whereto, she answered
  • We are having a ceremony and I want you to be a part of it
  • That would be lovely. Let me get my cloak and we can leave

Scribe 23 put on her cloak and followed her Master using her echolocation skills as she could not see him. They journeyed through portals that took them through continents in the same way that a joyride would take someone from one point to the other like a train in a twirling tunnel. Her Master seemed to always stay ahead of her and she was glad as she had no idea where they were going. When her Master finally stopped travelling into portals, she could see a small clearing in the woods where her Master was heading. Scribe 23 shook some of the ice that had formed around her cloak as some of the portals’ waters was frozen. She looked toward her Master and enquired why they were in the woods.

  • We need to go ahead with the releasing of the primal according to the ancient tradition, he said
  • Was he not already released?
  • Yes he was but he was put back to sleep to gather more forces and to be awoken at the right time
  • Why do a few weeks only make a difference
  • It is all about equinox calculation my dearest pupil. One day, one hour or sometimes even one second can change the overall design of the multiverse

Scribe 23 said nothing as her Master said this final truth that she herself had come to realise throughout her life. One minute could change everything sometimes between finding a door open or closed, between catching a train or losing it. She asked her master whether he would show himself now but he was unwilling to do so but mentioned he would after the ceremony was over.

They both sat on a small tree trunk in the midst of the clearing and waited. Scribe 23 wondered what they were waiting for and wanted to ask her Master but he seemed too engrossed in meditation so she did not dare disturb him. Just as this thought occurred to her, he opened his eyes and told her that they would not have to wait for long anymore. No sooner had he said that than a group of scribes started arriving and took seating at the other tree trunks. As she watched them getting seated she realised that the tree trunks were disposed in a circle and seemed to have been disposed that way by humans and not by nature.

  • We are in the midst of an ancient circle of life, said the Master
  • This is the first time I see one
  • It will not be your last. There will be many more to come

Scribe 23 was awed by the prospect of the ceremony and the appearance of other Masters. These were visible to the naked eye and had their own apprentice scribe accompanying them. They all smiled at her as if she were a child and she smiled back, a bit embarassed by their attention and how inexperienced she felt they thought her to be. The Master giggled by her side and she knew that he had sensed her embarassment. After everybody had gathered, some of the scribes lit a fire by projecting some of his energy onto the pile of leaves and tree trunks at the center of the clearing. As soon as the fires were high, the scribes starting throwing something that seemed like leaves except that they had aromatic scents to them when they burnt.

The Master asked Scribe 23 to sit as near to the fire as she could possibly do and he then proceeded to attaching a second locket at her neck. It looked very similar to the first locket he had granted her and he answered her mentally that it was. After attaching it, the Master asked her to circle the fire seven times before stopping in front of him again, which she did eager to please him. At the end of the seventh round, the Master slowly materialised in front of her eyes and she was amazed at his appearance. Before she could say anything, a sound of clapping made her turn around. On the opposite side of where she and the Master stood, there drifted the head of Elohim, the Primal Master.

She cried out in surprise and this caused Elohim to come closer. It was a strange sight to see this head floating without a body but Elohim answered her that he did not need a body, nor a head for that matter but that it helped create a link with people who could not see beyond the physical. Elohim offered to create himself a body if she felt uncomfortable talking to a head but she said she was fine so he stayed as a head. The Master then introduced her officially to Elohim as being his disciple and Master at which Elohim smiled. When he smiled, the whole forest seemed to shine with a beautiful golden ray and the trees seemed on fire although she knew that this was not possible.

Slowly and carefully, Elohim materialised outstretched hands and placed them on her shoulders. With a slight pull to her frame, he brought her closer to him and blessed her three times announcing that she was now a Master in her own right. After he had blessed her, all the scribes rose and she was hailed as a Master before they all clapped. Once the clapping had subsided, the Master asked her to lead the dance around the fires and she led them heartily, dancing a gig, her hand tightly held by the Master who followed her every step. As they danced around faster and faster, it seemed to Scribe 23 that they were literally dancing on the fire that seemed to coil around itself like a fractal snail so she asked the Master whether they would hurt themselves. The Master merely gazed at her and smiled.


Aphrodite – Stive Morgan

Roquefort, baguette, pineapple juice and the Daily Thanthi or the unsung hero of a disappearing generation

Roquefort, baguette, pineapple juice and the Daily Thanthi or the unsung hero of a disappearing generation

26 April 2017


Those who follow my blog since a while and whom I personally thank here for their continued support and interesting comments would have come across articles regarding my father and his adventures in India. For those who are not aware, you can look up the previous articles about him and a part of his adventures (Celebrating life – or The plight of the elderly in India – ).


For those who had not followed earlier my blog and don’t have time to look them up, I’ll just summarise saying that my father went through a difficult land grab experience followed by the forced sale of his house and his kidnapping to a remote location in Tamil Nadu where I finally found him after months of searching for him, going to and fro between Dubai where my children lived and India which I visited every weekend for almost a year until his situation was sorted.


My father has now been with me for around three years and has recovered from his adventures. He also went from being confined to his bed in an old age home in India (where he was awaiting the preparation of his passport for months – forget about the supposed immediate access to passports for senior citizens) where he was spoon fed and lifted to go to the bathroom/shower to an almost fully independent status save for cooking for himself which he now rarely does.


A very spiritual and erudite person, my father remains mentally very active albeit in a remote way as far as the link to human beings around him is concerned. While he keeps himself very well informed thanks to a Tamil newspaper called the Daily Thanthi and to the news reports that he follows almost religiously, his links to the reality around him are less intense and he is often immersed within his own world which paradoxically is made of very deep analysis of all the phenomena happening in the world. I realised that what I took for indifference about the matters of this world was rather a form of detachment made of absence of intensity regarding the outcome despite the very deep analysis of the subjects he examined. It appealed to my own quest for detachment which I practice albeit in a different form as I believe that the heart should remain at the center despite the lack of intensity regarding the outcome.


This got me thinking that there were so many people in this world like my father, living in this world but barely in it so to speak and content with very little. In a time where so many human beings are literally killing each other over access to resources whether basic or of a higher level and in a society where consumption of goods, even those which are absolutely not necessary items of life, is the driving factor, I remain at awe of this generation of human beings who hardly had the need for all this wastage and who are so content with the small joys of life.


For my father, a great source of joy is to be able to enjoy a slice or two of bread with some Roquefort cheese together with some pineapple juice and followed (if not preceded when he is hungry for news) by the reading of his favourite Tamil newspaper. Whenever he is able to have all these items together, his happiness is palpable and I regret that sometimes the newspaper is not available at the store where they know my father and tell me that he is apparently almost the only one who buys it. When I think of the cost (spread out for the Roquefort) of that happiness, a mere AED 22, I feel that it is truly amazing. There will be those who come from humbler origins who would of course be happy with much less but my father was a doctor specialized in pulmonary diseases so one would expect that his standards and requirements to lead a happy life would be fairly more demanding.


I have to say that even when he was younger, my father led a simple life and was always willing to help others, to the extent that he sometimes drove into the Tunisian desert to provide medicine to those who could not visit the city. While he may have had some faults, I truly believe that my father is an unsung hero, a sample from a generation that is becoming extinct in this day and age. Every time I think of anything in life that causes me any discomfort, I always think back to my father’s approach in life and to the little things that give him immense satisfaction and I feel an immediate quietening of all discomfort I may experience.


My father will be 85 this year and I do hope that he will get to live to a hundred walking around and sitting as he does with his back straight and with such dignity and poise. I am including a picture of my father who has more of a Tagorean beard now. I find it particularly endearing as he does not button his shirt fully because it is then easier to unbutton 🙂


Together with my father, there are all those other unsung heroes of India, some in the open and thriving, others perhaps lying on a small mat in some isolated place, who have contributed so much during their active lives to a society that can barely acknowledge them for what they represent. Perhaps this acknowledgement of all those unsung heroes, a program to actually visit them in their houses and have social workers perform a follow-up on them for those living isolated would be and retain to some extent, the measure of our humanity.


Life of the Bird – The Cinematic Orchestra



Changing Paradigms

Changing Paradigms

25 January 2017


Hello my wordpress blog friends. So sorry I have not been able to read so many of your posts since a few weeks now for those whom I follow and who follow me. I hope you will enjoy this short prayer which I offer in exchange for not having visited you.

I wish for you an interesting journey throughout the year watching how things unfold in clarity, in truth and in integrity as the Earth shifts towards new paradigms and new energies.

My best wishes to you all and may this year bring all that your souls need and the greatest blessings that your heart desires.

Reading of the prayer: 

Courtesy Christian Schloe


In my dreams I fly

In my dreams I fly

25 September 2015

fly kittythedreamer com


The pied piper blew

Into twists of my soul’s veins

Tunes of the blessings


In mind no rat race

Responded to dark musings

Moving Time backwards


fly hdwallpaperpc com


Apprentice flutist

I blew with Heart’s entrainment

Laughing notes in air


Golden faeries leapt

Between colours and the Grey

Moving us forward


fly paradigmsalon net


The push and the pull

In between neutrinos’ gaps

Subdued shimmering


In my dreams I fly

Feet on ground soul soaring high

Towards new morrows