In Memoriam - Anu B. (Onkaru)
by Paul M. Helfrich

I only knew her as Anu B. She joined Sethnet Classic on Yahoo! on August 9, 2005 and quickly began to build relationships with many there. When we moved Sethnet to NewWorldView on September 7, 2006 she was one of the first to join (as we had no way to move every email address into new accounts). Her last visit was recorded as November 22, 2006, two weeks before her passing.

Anu lived in what used to be called Bombay, India (now called Mumbai). Her bio listed her occupation as a Risk Manager. Her interests were Akido, writing, and painting. She was also one of our "list poets" - people who regularly share their thoughts and feelings through the magic of the written word.

I was shocked when I first heard the news of her passing in a car accident. Anu was so young and vibrant. Her posts reflected her passion for life that she saw in the beauty of a sunset, a beggar's smile, or the smell of rain.

I don't even know how old she was, but she struck me as an "old soul." She initially shared her feelings about her breakup with the boyfriend that introduced her to the Seth material. Once she found out about Elias and Kris, she quickly opened her fertile mind to their possibilities. She joined other email lists, and networked into the minds and hearts of those who took the time to know her.

She had a kidney ailment and was on regular dialysis treatments. She had been set up for and got out of an arranged marriage, as still is the custom in many parts of India. She had an abusive boss but would soon replace him in her company. She was heart broken over her boyfriend but was intent on moving on. She was passionate about everything it seemed.

There was always a bright light that shone in her posts, her feelings, her thoughts, her caring, her need to know more about herself and others. The Seth material provided fertile ground for her growth. And did she ever blossom! I'm sure others will attest to that.

Anu was a shooting star! She lit a bright path across my virtual worlds. She will be sorely missed, and I can only hope, pray, and trust that she got everything she needed from her short journey with us this time around.

Anu's presence, or should I say, absence, began to play an important role in my efforts to solve the database problems we experienced in late November on NewWorldView, just before her death. I had one hell of a time isolating and finding the exact cause, which took me more than a month to figure out. Well, that's the rational explanation. On the magical side, the transrational side, I went through an amazing process. I could have solved the problem very quickly by simply deleting that damned database and starting from scratch!

But it became a Donnybrook. I spent weeks trying everything in my power to fix it. Got a new webhost, paid for a higher level of technical support, tried dozens of experiments, all of which ended up with a dead and confused database, not to mention confused and frustrated members who periodically checked in on our progress.

By mid-December I was ready to throw in the towel, had exhausted all options, or so I thought. But something had become very, very precious about that database. It became a living link to Anu's presence on NewWorldView. If I deleted that database, I would delete her account, her avatar, her posts and somehow this became a rallying point for my efforts.

December days became weeks. On December 22, 2006 I was on my last legs. I re-installed two separate versions of the database for one last attempt. I was optimistic when I went to bed that Friday night. But when I woke up Saturday, the first database had failed again! I was crestfallen. Forget the second database. It was no use. I had tried everything! It was time to let go and move on. I hoped that Anu, in her new home, and those who might miss her presence in the archives would understand.

I remember laying back down in bed and telling Jo the news. And she said, "We need a Christmas miracle," but I was pessimistic. Though we had just watched The Secret several nights earlier and were both inspired by its conscious creation message, I was finally ready to let Anu and the old database go. It was hopelessly corrupted.

In hindsight, it was that surrender that opened the doors to a possible fix. I say possible because as of this writing it is still not a 100% sure thing in rational terms. It could still break. But in magical, transrational terms, interesting things began to occur. I got up from a nap and created a third, brand new database from scratch. I was now ready for a fresh start.

But once I had crossed this Rubicon, I decided to play with that second restored database just for yucks. Perhaps I was still avoiding the finality of moving on? But it didn't matter, it would probably break and that would be that! But my little changes seemed to work right away. Within an hour I was making headway, and things kept working, so I just kept on playing with it. I had nothing to lose!

When I went to bed December 23rd this last remaining version of the database was still working. The next morning it was working. On Christmas day it was still working! It seemed as if Jo's Christmas miracle had indeed occurred. I did nothing significantly different from my earlier attempt on the first database. But for some reason, this last version refused to go gently in that good night!

As I write this today, December 28, 2006, it's still working. It's been five days now….

I believe my intent to preserve Anu's memory in the living archives of NewWorldView somehow helped. I had asked for help from all inner sources for weeks to help me find a solution and no matter how hard I tried, the solution eluded me.

I still don't have a fully rational explanation for why this last database is still working, but like to imagine Anu and her inner self are both lending energy to her remembrance in our minds and hearts.

So I would like to dedicate this last database to Anu's loving memory. She was a bright light that added tremendously to our online community. She will be sorely missed. Joanne and I send her family and friends our deepest sympathies and hope she is doing well in her new life. Keep a safe eye on us here at NewWorldView and we will always remember the times we shared!

In her last private message, still in the database, she said, "And congratulations, your forum has taken off superbly and I am so glad to say to you that I enjoy this place much more than our good old Sethnet."

"Cheers. Maybe we should have beer together some day."

"Love,
anu"

Indeed! I hope to take you up on the offer some day. A nice ale or stout perhaps?

P.S. I included Anu's essence name as given posthumously by Kris on December 15, 2006 in the title. It is an honor to receive one of these and I'd like to think that Anu would be thrilled with it!

I am sitting at the kitchen table where I have just finished a delicious dinner. An hour ago I wouldn't have thought I could ever eat at this table again. Why? Because I got a dishwasher.

An hour ago the table was covered with screws and screwdrivers, cheesecloth, copper canisters and copper polish, salt and sugars and rice and other assorted items that may or may not fit into copper canisters, plumbing tape and wrenches, buckets and sponges and cleaning supplies and a thermal cooler. All very necessary items for installing a completely portable dishwasher. And all very necessary items to take the procrastination out of procrastinating about writing. After all, I have a dishwasher to install; I don't have time to write.

A few months ago the guy upstairs moved out and left me his portable dishwasher. It's a nice one, fairly new and with a cutting block top. Ever since moving out of my last apartment I have wanted one, but then, when opportunity knocked, I didn't want to answer the door. I'd grown accustomed to hand washing again and had even begun to like it. Sinking my hands into the warm suds reminded me of being a child standing on a chair and exploring the mysterious depths to feel what was underneath the soapy cover. It was sensuous, relaxing and I actually enjoyed it; everything except the silverware, which I found tedious. Besides, I didn't think I'd have room in my small kitchen.

So I tried to give it away. I let all my friends know to let all their friends know. One day the thought occurred to me that perhaps the guy upstairs had left it behind because it didn't work. Sure enough, when I went upstairs and tried it nothing happened. Luckily, no one called to say they wanted it. Now all I had to do was throw it out because I had arranged with the landlord to get the apartment ready for showing. Thus began the attack of the dirty dishes.

My husband and I had arranged what we thought was a pretty good distribution of kitchen duties. It was not equal, but then what is? And it worked for us, for awhile. I would make dinner and he would tidy up. I would do the dishes and he would put them away. Great, except he liked to put the dishes away after dinner or before going to bed and I wanted to wash the dishes right after dinner and wake up to a tidy kitchen. I couldn't wash the dishes after dinner because the drainer was already full and by the time he got around to putting them away after dinner and coffee and tidying up, I was already into my nighttime mode and had moved on. So I would wake up every morning to a pile of dirty dishes with crusty hardened-on remains. Yuck. Or soaking in cold mucky water. Double yuck.

The idea of a dishwasher became more appealing. I was sure I could fit it in somewhere. So upstairs again I went and plugged it in and low and behold it worked! But now my husband didn't want it because it was stained and dirtied on one side. Easily remedied with 409 and paint and so began the incorporation of the dishwasher into the kitchen.

First there was the descent down the stairs that only half way thru did we figure out the easy way to do. And, of course, I first had to clean the floor where it was going to be. That's when I remembered the heating vent on the floor that would be partially covered by the dishwasher and I wanted to cover it with cheesecloth to keep down the dust. So off I went to find the cheesecloth. Not there. Not there either. Not anywhere I looked. And I did not want to cover it without first putting the cheesecloth in place. Hence, a conflict. Should I stay focused on the task at hand until finished; searching out the cheesecloth? Or simply follow my impulses which were now saying I'd like to clean out that bookcase over there? I've noticed I have many beliefs about finishing something once I've started. I shoved the idea of ever getting to writing that day into the back of my mind.

Although I had no idea when or if I would ever get the dishwasher in place, I opted for moving to clean out the bookcase. That's where I found the copper canisters that I decided to polish and then have fun figuring out what to fill them with. From there I went to the porch door. Out came the screws and screwdrivers and on went a new lock. Then it was time to reorganize the cabinet that I used to have in the soon-to-be dishwasher corner, and as I placed the pot holders on top of my microwave, there was the cheesecloth! I had come full circle - literally, as there was a dishwasher in the middle of my kitchen - and I then covered the vent with cheesecloth and moved in the dishwasher.

Up I filled it with all those dirty dishes, plugged it in, hooked the hose to the sink and BLAST! Water spraying everywhere! Seems the connection wasn't connecting correctly. So out came the wrenches and off and on went various nozzles - until I had the idea and went upstairs and, sure enough, he had a special nozzle on his faucet. I took it and put it on mine. It leaked a bit so enter the plumbers tape and now I finally had a dishwasher.

And now I am here, at my kitchen table, finally writing. I guess I can trust that if I allow myself to follow my impulses, everything will still get done. And a lot more!

Dale A. Evans is an Intuitive Facilitator living in NY. She incorporates the philosophies of many Energy Essence Personalities in her work. Her focus is on identifying and addressing beliefs/thought patterns and reconfiguring energy so that we may more consciously direct ourselves in choosing what we want. Dale is also a published poet, newspaper reporter and freelance journalist whose work can be seen in print and on various websites, e-zines and online journals. Visit her website at www.IntuitiveFacilitating.com.

Celebrating Anew: A sampling of Anu's Essence
by John J McNally

This is the saddest article I've ever had to write, as I must pay tribute to a dear friend who chose to leave this reality far too soon. But it's also a joyful celebration of the soul who was Anu, the sweet, loving, childlike mystic who touched so many of our lives.

In these lines, I hope to capture just a bit of her essence, in the form of her letters and poems that she shared over the past year and a half. Anu was a complex individual, facing her own trials and triumphs, battling demons that would have overwhelmed many, and celebrating life with a joy that is rarely seen in the world.

Anu first joined Sethnet in August 2005, her first post spells out the challenges she had already laid out for herself, and her desire to change that life. I can honestly say that before she made her transition, she had transformed many aspects of it, leaving only her kidneys and a physical love relationship as the two challenges she did not fully overcome.

Hi friends,

I am Anu from India.

I was introduced to Seth one year ago by a friend. He gifted me the book "Nature of Personal Reality". I am still reading it as each time i read the same sentences again and again, i seem to understand something which i am unable to translate into words easily.

I used to have an orthodox family. Whose sole aim was to get me married. I was not interested in an arranged marriage (very common in India). It's at that time that i fell in love with a man, lets call him R (the same one who introduced me to Seth). In Dec'03, i fell very sick and started to throw up badly. My parents refused to admit me to the hospital as they thought i was creating a drama. R insisted that something was wrong with me and i get myself admitted in the hospital.

The next day against my parents wishes i did exactly that. Soon i was diagnosed with Chronic Renal Failure, though I did not have any physical symptoms of the same. This illness changed my entire life.

I was no longer in the marriageable bracket as I became special now. My parents for once started to respect my wishes. The perception of people at my work-place about me changed for the better. I had finally earned my freedom but for a very heavy price. Yet maybe, no price is so high to pay to be the person who you really are.

Today i am alive, happy and doing well. I am undergoing dialysis twice a week with a high creatinine level of 12. And Mr R has broken up with me. On a certain level i feel sad for what i am going through. I certainly feel I deserve much more. I am kind feeling miserable because my very first relationship with Mr R failed.

Yet at another level i know there was a transition to make and there is a journey to take. There are lessons which i am learning. I have created whatever i underwent and i can go to my past and alter them as Seth says we live multiple lifetimes parallelly. So there is yet another anu who is having a great love life, another anu who is in fabulous health and has perfectly working kidneys.

I am trying to connect with them. Trying to heal my kidneys.

Mine is not going to be a tragedy story. I am going to turn it around very soon to a life full of abundance, joy, love and health. I am working hard on my beliefs. In my journey, i thank you all to allow me to share my experience with you.

Thanks a lot guys, Hugs and lots of love
anu

Despite the fact that she was facing a life threatening illness, Anu's first focus was on getting over the broken relationship with the man called R. Like any of us who have been through a bad breakup, Anu went through a roller coaster of emotions, often leaning on her friends on the various Seth lists during the loneliest times.

But Anu persevered, and in a very short time realized that she was looking for approval and acceptance from outside of herself and not within. She took these lessons to heart, and quickly rose like a phoenix from the ashes, to love and embrace her inner self and make her life as joyous as possible. Anu's first poem came to us around Thanksgiving 2005:

Dear friends,

I am no poet. I don't know how to write poems. I wanted to express my feelings to you to tell you how much you mean to me. So i have tried to write a poem for you all as thanksgiving. It is so amateurish and child-like.

But its my original poem written right now, only for you:

Thanksgiving Poem for you all:

I came here in tears
You held me

I wrote long letters
You listened to me

I seeked advice
You guided me

I had questions
You helped me find answers

I trust you immensely
I love you and cherish you
I know you will be there
When i need you

Thank you Seth
Thank you Sethnet
Thank you all friends

I love you so much
Hugs and kisses

anu

From there, Anu's writing abilities really took off. She shared every aspect of her life through her poems with honesty and openness. She demonstrated her integrity artistically as she gave us a glimpse into both the brightest and darkest aspects of her life.

oops! i slipped again

in my quest to reach out to love
i rise and fall like the tidal waves.
in this roller-coaster ride
some moments seem fleeting
and some so painfully slow,
that i think i'll pass out while waiting for them to go..

but there is a quiet exhilaration in me
a feeling of triumph,
even as i sit alone, rock-bottom
wondering 'where did all my inner work go?'

in my helplessness and hopelessness
in my vulnerability and restlessness
in my desperation and disturbed psychic
in my struggle to let go of the past
with my hand still clutching to the memories tightly
i try to loosen the grip, each time,
letting a few painful memories slip through the gaps
from in between my fingers

like a stranded traveler in the desert,
longing for a drop of water
i struggle to wriggle free through the cocoon,
even if it is by crying and wailing out of pain

every time i am caught in these spider webs
i don't give up,
i kick, yell and scream
till i break free..

half done painting

from here above i see,
tall trees and huge boulders
i cannot even spot a ray of sun
in the jungle of darkness, in this valley

i hear roars of the wildest beasts
in the form of past memories
and as i crawl trying to find my way out
ferocious tiger thoughts pounce on me
they suck my blood and eat my flesh
till i am drained and lying like a corpse
i yell and scream for help and no one hears me
till i give up and give in and stop and listen to myself

as i focus on myself and my feelings
i realise my emotions are signals
trying to communicate something to me
the wild beasts and the ferocious tigers
are my own creations, something i drew on the blank canvas myself

and with my arm still in the beast's bloody mouth
and its sharp claws digging into my soft flesh
i see, i stand there before me,
with a paint brush and a half-done painting...

As Anu's talent for writing grew, she often liked to express her sensual side as well…

Feeling the tight skirt

today I've worn
my favorite long tight blue jeans skirt and a white blouse.
this skirt hugs my tight round ass really tight
and tapers down so very casually

I love the way I feel
when I move,
taking tiny steps
even as my skirt holds me so close to myself

something so special about feeling sensual
about yourself
especially, when it has nothing to do with
whether or not anyone notices you ;)

Love
anu

Perhaps Anu's greatest passion in physical life though, was her love for martial arts, particularly Aikido. Anu loved her attending classes, even when she got a broken toe, and then a finger, but she persevered until shortly before her leaving this world, she successfully passed her test.

the forward roll, the flower & the brick

at the aikido class, we do rolls, during which
we are momentarily in the air
slightly above the ground
and we land on our shoulders, softly,

now i'm just not able to do the forward rolls
i just freeze and become so nervous
that i flop on my back, clumsily,
i'm probably the only student
who is still unable to do the forward roll
the guys are giving me all types of tips & suggestions
but i am just not getting it!

today, the south african guy told me after class
'anu, you are stiff and exerting so much strength,
be relaxed and easy, you are NOT going to fall & hurt yourself'
he continued--
'think of the flower, even as it falls from such great heights
it lands so softly on the hard ground,
sometimes rocks, sometimes glass,
it is not scared as it flows with the energy of the universe
and the force of gravity, it knows it will be safe
but take a brick and drop it from two feet above the ground
the brick cracks so easily
the flower is relaxed and open and accepting (of even the fall)
while the brick resists

no one who has fallen from the great heights has ever hurt himself,
but the fear the falling and resistance to fall is what may hurt you

be the flower anu, not the brick!'

The birth of a flower

for the last five months
the brick has been trying to fall
already cracked a finger and a toe
now too scared to fall
for broken bones
are bound to hurt

yet everyday
the brick tried
only to come back home
in pieces with a shattered
sense of confidence

today
the brick rolled
in a full circle
and landed softly

today
the brick is reborn as
the flower!

(my experiences in doing a forward roll in aikido)

One full circle

today I gave my 5th kyu aikido test and
after the test, sensei told me
in front of all the students

"Anu, I'm very impressed seeing your rolls.
you roll fabulously now, in a full circle.
you should be very very proud of yourself
to be able to roll in this fashion."

I am beaming in joy and
a sense of accomplishment
many a bones I'd broken trying to learn to roll
many a fears I've overcome trying to embrace a fall

today I can fall like a beautiful flower and
I no more hold a fear of falling
today I know that its nice to be
up in the air
in the sky

but it is even more nice to dive
down towards the earth
it humbles you to take a fall
it enriches you
it empowers you
it makes you complete
the rise and the fall
together form one full circle
as sensei said.

And no memorial of Anu would be complete without noting her love of the Sun and Moon, and the natural world around her:

Colour the Moon

when the sky was lavender
the moon was pink in color

when the sky was dark grey
the moon was peach in color

are you teasing me or
are my eyes painting you
with the colours of my heart?

Chemistry

you are a hopeless romantic
always falling in love
i see you mating with the moon
almost devouring her

and then there are those days
when you stand aside
and let her illuminate your life
while you bask in her glory

such a lovely chemistry you share
Mr Sky with the Moon goddess

Steal a kiss

as I was sitting in my rick
I felt someone rush towards me
in full speed

I could feel his warm breath
on my soft cheeks
so very close to me
that I was shocked
I turned my face around
and stared at him

he suddenly stopped in mid-air
and turned his proud head
pretending like he never meant any mischief
and sneaked away in the opposite direction

I swear, I have this surest
feeling in me
that this naughty orange butterfly
with bright polka dots on his wings
almost stole a kiss from me!

the fullness

a certain strength I feel in weakness
a certain well being I feel in sickness
for what do I care to lose,
when there is nothing left to be lost

a certain daring I sense in myself
as I let go and give in
get up and walk away
all alone

my hands in my empty pockets
the sun still shining in my heart
the moon smiling through my lips
perhaps, it is the fullness of my emptiness

Love
anu

I'll finish with an email Anu posted to Sethnet last New Year's that I felt really captured the essence of who she was, I think it makes an excellent New Years message from her now:

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2006

All evening i was feeling low as i was alone here sitting in my room with nothing much to do. I was wondering what is all this hype and fuss about the new year.

Then i went to look out of my balcony. I saw the children's garden and saw four kids playing in two separate groups of two each. They were climbed up the slides and the abstract structures and climbed down. They slide down the slides happily laughing and screaming. They were all girls and it was 8:30 PM in the night. They had their mom and grandpa to help them climb the abstract structures and swing from there.

The whole garden was empty. While the whole world was planning parties, cruises, bonfires and excursions, these kids were happily enjoying in the muddy garden with their slides and swings. There was no fuss about the new year. There was no depression in them that they were not doing something 'great' to welcome the new year. They probably did not even know or care that it was new year's eve.

To them it was probably the same day as every day. And to them every day is probably as special as a new year's eve. Every day is a mystery. Every day brings them magic. They look forward to wake up and dive into the each day with as much vigour and enthusiasm as ever. I saw plain fun and joy in their plays. I saw the eagerness with which they climbed the abstract structures. I saw the joy with which they slide down the slides screaming and experiencing the thrilling sensations.

I saw that as i watched them sitting on my window sill with my legs outside, i used to burst out laughing seeing their antics and the fun things they were doing. I saw how engrossed they were in the muddy garden. I saw life treated so precious with fun and love sprinkled on it. I saw respect for every moment and an eagerness to venture into the moment as if it was all that existed and nothing else mattered...nothing really.

This is my new year inspiration. The children playing in the muddy garden.

And later in the morning, when the clock stuck 12 am, it did not matter that i was not in the best parties of the world, it did not matter that i was not in the exotic clubs dancing with handsome dudes or getting drunk on a beach with belly dancers, i still felt the outburst of energy when we entered the new year 2006.

I felt as if life has entered my body and light has entered my soul.

I went to my bedroom window and sat on my bed and meditated quietly welcoming my love, my life, my joy and my entity into myself. I felt the power i behold. The energy i possess. I felt god sinking in me.

And i said a quiet prayer to my only witnesses:

the leaves of the forest flame tree,
the rosy sky and
the dark husky handsome (k)night..

Let me be
like the sun in seeing
like the fire in brilliance
like the wind in power
like the soma in fragrance
like the indra and agni in strength
like the brahaspati in intelligence
like the ashwins in beauty.

Wish you all a happy and lovely new year 2006 from anu :)

Happy New Year Anu, from all of us who love you.

Love & Hugs,
John

Touch of An Angel: Anu as remembered by her friends

Anu inspired so many of us, and remains a Muse dancing in our minds and inspiring us to new levels of creativity. Below is a compilation of thoughts, words and poems, mostly inspired by Anu, but some from her own words as well which were requested by her friends to be included.

Emmy Van Swaaij recorded a very touching Song for Anu which is well worth listening to.

Hayley Youngblud has set up a Memorial Blog for Anu, where anyone can leave their thoughts and wishes.

To Anu
by Chiron O'Keefe

To Anu
Your presence is like a butterfly
dancing
on the wind.
Graceful, loving, gentle as a a soft breeze
caressing my skin.

I imagined us twirling
to music
our souls would sing.
Giggling like toddlers
watching
the silly squirrels gathering peanuts
outside my house.

Sensual and liquid,
your soul touches us all with sweet
kisses as passionate and vibrant as
sultry summer winds.

The clouds cry today,
Sweet lady,
echoing my grief.
Yet even now, as tears spill onto my
keyboard, I hear
your laughter and see you dancing.

Free at last.

Happy to give up the patient, weary flesh and give in
to a soul that yearns
for another dance.

Dance on, sweet lady…

12-12-2006

Requested by Jenifer Ransom
new day
by Anu

new day

early morning
sipping tea
happy once again

The following is a private email shared by Rick Boyd

Dear Rick,

I am most delighted to receive a private mail from you. Thank you for your kind words, concern, affection and appreciation. I am touched.

Earlier i used to be desperate to heal. Now i am not. Its the lesson behind it which seems to be really important now. The process is becoming more worthwhile than the end.

Shall i tell you something frankly, i really want to heal. But i am not at all scared that i will die or i will suffer. When they pierce these huge hollow 16" needles on my spotless arms (which now have scars) it does not hurt me much at all.

Actually i am excited at the thought that i created an opportunity to 'heal myself'. Its such an opportunity not everyone gets...to actually apply the Seth principles of abundance and health and work on the beliefs and heal ourself.

The physical ailment is difficult to heal becoz its already there, its not invisible like certain mental situations which do not come to light fast. But its exciting becoz if you are able to crack it, you may be 'over and done with those lessons'. Then i will move on to learn something else.:-)

So from that point of view, this is the best time ..the NOW to tackle any challenge. As Seth always says, 'The point of power is in the PRESENT'.

The fact that i have realised that this not something to 'overcome' but to 'learn' and it may disappear on its own or maybe it does not, either way it is fine. Becoz if i have been honest in my attempt to tackle it and i have tried my best, that's all Seth or any other entity or Abe or Elias or my Greater self expects from me.

My only responsibility is to be true to myself. Then i have nothing to fear or to conquer...not even the physical incurable ailment :-)

Thank you so much Rick, for writing to me today. Today is a special day and i hope you have a Great Birthday and a fabulous year ahead.

I love your posts and your face radiates vibrance and so much positive energy.

Hope you have a great day.

Love & Hugs & Kisses
anu

Requested by Jenifer Ransom

raining tears
by Anu

cracked earth
waiting for rains
to quench its thirst

love starved
eyes full of tears
falling down my cheeks

Love
anu

Golden Age
by Donald R Johnson

Do the people who live in a 'golden age' realize that it is a golden age? Or do they only see it as such when times have changed and they look back upon it?

I remember when Anu first started sharing her writings with us. I was happy for her because she had found a means of self-expression and I saw that this made her happy. SethNet members and members of other groups encouraged her and she shared her feelings with us. I liked the way that she always seemed to find the good things, even in the most unlikely places. I soon began to see her sharings as insights. While I often am unsure about sharing too much of myself, Anu seemed to have no problem with that. She put her feelings into words for us and she shared her wonder and her love.

I miss Anu and I wish that I had known her better. She has moved on but we are here. This makes me want to better know the people around me. When I am gone, who could say "I knew him well"?

Anu showed me that people are wonderful! Who will share their Selves so that we can know and love them? Let's allow Anu's eagerness to share be an example for us all. The experiences of your life might seem ordinary to you but I assure you that you are made of Dream-stuff and Fascinating Wonders. Be true to your Self, share boldly and brightly with your friends, and let's all be edified and strengthened by our love and creativity.

The Golden Age has only begun. The most beautiful Spirits in the universe are here now - and they share their love in SethNet.

When I gaze upon our lovely friend Luna, I will always think of Anu. At such times she just might stand beside me and together we will think loving thoughts for all of our family in SethNet.

Anu joined us so that she could learn but we all ended up learning from her, don't you think?

I will always be linked to you all - this I promise. You are the very best I have ever known.

Best wishes and love,

Don

Requested by Jenifer Ransom

milkman
by Anu

every morning
even as the city sleeps
and the dogs bark

a lone milkman paddles along,
balancing his huge aluminum milk pots
on either side of his old bicycle

To My Friends
by John McNally

To My Friends
in coming full circle
I have fulfilled my life
and embraced the Great Beyond

but I am still here
with hugs and kisses
for all my friends
love
anu

The System
by Jan Ramsey

The System

the system was old
it needed a rest
i stood at the window
and watched the sun set
i felt as if my heart was setting
as it sunk below the horizon
i knew it was time for me to go
i thought of all of you
and knew you'd love me
just as i am
just as i always have been
i knew you would continue on your journey
as i would mine
i felt free to fly
like the night enveloping the earth
i felt closure
thank you all
for allowing me to be
my beautiful spirit flies free
i am without much i had
but with more then i ever had
this new sunrise
it is beautiful too

love and kisses
anu

Requested by Jenifer Ransom

three's a crowd?
By Anu

4 am
lying under the sky
we stare at each other --

me,
one half moon
and three stars

Requested by Jenifer Ransom

cobbler
by Anu

cobbler across the street
mends shoes for rupees 5

wonder if he will do a good job
if i send him my broken heart?

Requested by Michael

Touch of an Angel
by Anu

yesterday I was stuck in a traffic jam
all the vehicles were so close to each other

I was sitting in one corner of the rick
listening to the music and suddenly,
someone tried to touch me

I was so shocked, I lifted my eyes and saw
there was another rick very close to mine
and there were two legs of a man in it
I almost flew into a rage and thought,
"how dare this man grab me like this!"

and almost immediately, a tiny moon-shaped face
peeped through the other rick, with awestruck eyes
and two pigtails and a big bright radiant smile
it was a little girl sitting on that man's lap
she was trying to reach out to me
it was perhaps, the healing touch of an angel

I've still not gotten over this wonderful surprise and
throughout the journey, as long as we were together
the little girl and I, spent our time
peering from our respective ricks,
waving out, smiling and
blowing kisses to each other

Love
anu

Dear Anu
by Rick Boyd

Dear Anu,

For now I'll miss your sweet wonderful poems

And your joyful look at this world

And though I may meet you in a dream,

I look forward to the day when

Having shed my body

We can sit beside a beautiful astral lake

And share time

And laugh as our friends from here,

Attracted by your Bright Light

Laughing too, float down to us lazily from the sky

To bask in your warm glow

A Walk Off the End of the World - Part 2 of 2
by John J. McNally

I awoke to the sound of my serving maid telling me breakfast would be ready soon. She wanted to know if I preferred to eat in bed. I answered no and rolled out of bed to dress quickly. For a moment, I was disoriented. My body felt strange. I looked down at my breasts as if I'd noticed them for the first time. They were quite large for a girl of 15, all the young men took notice when I went out. I suppose this is what mother meant when she told me that it would take time to adjust to my body's changes.

I walked downstairs to the dining room and found my parents there already eating.

"Well my little darling, I'm glad you found time to join us." Father said with a smile.

"Are you feeling ill dear? You don't look quite yourself." My mother's face was a mixture of concern and curiosity, as if she could see the awkwardness that I suffered from.

"I'm quite fine, Mother, really. I just had trouble waking this morning."

"You weren't up late last night writing again, were you?"

I grinned sheepishly. Mother knew well that I had been, for she had come to my room after midnight and chased me to bed.

"Emily, you must get your rest." Then imitating her Aunt Agnus' screechy voice she said, "A young lady needs a proper 10 hours of sleep or she shall age horribly before her time."

"I suppose Aunt Aggie never received her fair share then." I answered mischievously.

"Emily, please!" interrupted Father. "After all, she is my sister. Though I admit sometimes I wish it otherwise, it's still proper to talk about your aunt with respect."

"I'm sorry, father."

"I, too," said Mother. "After all, I instigated it."

"Accepted and finished," said Father cheerfully. "Now, I'm going to the college today to pick up fresh writing supplies, would anyone care to join me on my journeys?"

"I believe you know the answer to that already, Father. When have I ever refused?"

"When you were too sick to leave your bed last year as I recall," he answered.

"That hardly counts, besides I still wanted to go, mother wouldn't allow it."

"Have you catch your death from a cold, of course I wouldn't allow it!" answered Mother.

"It was bad enough having you sick, but then I had to have your Aunt Agnes telling me that it was the Lord's just punishment for not marrying you to Lord Thomas."

"That 60 year old man! Death would have been preferable!" I was furious at the thought, the thought of anyone trying to control my life that way. And yet it happened all the time, Elizabeth, a girl I had played with for years was chosen to marry the old Lord instead.

"Would you care to join us as well, my dear, you can help our daughter sort through her potential suitors."

"No thank you. However, I do need some more canvases, so please remember them."

"Of course, my dear," he said, kissing her briefly as he rose. "With such an abundance of talent in this family, it's a wonder that I don't go broke."

"Well, you could try to show some of our works, but it was your fears that keep them hidden away," said Mother.

"It's a great deal more than fear. Even as we speak there are good people suffering abominations in the Archbishop's prisons. The ascent of James to the throne has created a terror throughout the land. No artist or scholar is safe as long as he holds an original thought in his head. And if they knew for a minute that my daughter writes poetry condemning the just torture of witches, or that my wife painted pictures of a pagan nature, we would all burn at the stake. It further worries me that the church has found a new way to expand. Throughout Europe landholders such as myself are being tried as witches, and regardless of the outcome the church takes over possession of his properties."

"That's horrible!" I exclaimed, shocked. "When did you learn of this, and why haven't you told us before?"

"Three days ago I received a letter from a man I'd met, when I was abroad. He was a minor noble from the city of London. He related to me a tale of his brother's persecution as a witch. Now it seems the Bishop there has turned his attentions to my friend and his family, as well. Oddly enough, both brothers are joint landholders of a wine producing estate."

"Why did he write you of this? Was he seeking help? Or refuge perhaps?" Mother was concerned, she often felt father wasn't charitable enough.

"He asked me for a letter of support, attesting to his character. It seems that his acquaintances in France are having trouble remembering him. And before you ask, my dear, yes, I did write the letter. I will gladly play the part of the church going simpleton; however, I will not under any circumstances turn my back on an injustice, even for a man I hardly know."

"Nor would I want you to." Mother said proudly. "But if it is so dangerous, is it wise for us to continue painting and writing? Even your private histories, the ones you haven't published, could be considered heresy."

"In the eyes of the church, my dear, they are indeed heresy. That's why I never hire a servant who knows how to read, and I always keep the doors locked when my sister is about."

"Father, how long will it take your letter to reach your friend in London?"

"Two to three weeks, I suppose, after all, it's not traveling by King's Messenger.

"And if after receiving it, the church decides to investigate us?" There was an apprehension starting to build inside me; a dread of certainty that I couldn't explain.

"Another week at the most." The church can afford the best messengers. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I think we should use our time to prepare as best we can." I was anxious, speaking rapidly. "Perhaps we can hide our works away, where no one can find them."

"It wouldn't matter," said Father with resignation. "If they decide to investigate us, they will find us guilty, even if we were the perfect models of Christian efficacy."

"Let's not dwell on this however, for we have a long trip to make, and a fine day awaits us."

"I must prepare myself. I'm still a wreck!" I started immediately for the stairs so that I might change to more suitable clothing.

"Ahhh, do I hear the heartsong of a certain young lady, for a certain young man whom always seems to turn up when we go to the college?"

"Why Father, John is a student there. He lives there most of the year round."

"So do a thousand other young men, yet they don't all turn out when you visit. Then again," he paused, reconsidering, "I suppose at least half of them do." I couldn't think of a good answer, so I continued rushing upstairs, allowing my Father to have the last word for a change.

During the carriage ride into town, I couldn't shake the growing feeling of dread that encircled me. Even the thought of seeing John again, was like a small candle's flame, in the face of a gale.

"You're very quiet, Emily. Composing a new poem?"

"No, Father, at least not yet. I just have the oddest feeling that something is terribly wrong."

"I share that same feeling. I've exposed you to a sickness of the land, to which we have no defense."

I thought about this in silence the rest of the way into town. How could there be no defense, no out cry, against injustice and outright evil? Were all of us really helpless in the face of the church's power. Someone, somewhere must be able to successfully withstand it.

The college was strangely quiet as we entered. This was a Saturday, and classes ended early on Saturdays. Father had always chosen a Saturday to come, after I met John.

He should be down soon, I thought, but just as quickly, I knew that he wouldn't. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Father and I entered the Apothecary's shop first. As we approached the shopkeepers, his delivery boy left in haste. He was openly frightened and his voice shook as he asked us what we needed.

The shop keeper was taking an awfully long time getting the 3 items which father had asked him for, I glanced at Father, and say that he had opened his coat, pushing it behind him, exposing his sword.

The shopkeeper finally appeared with our order and hastily took the money from my Father. I made sure to politely bid the timid man a good day, particularly since Father hadn't and as we stopped out again into the Autumn air, we saw three church soldiers, and a Priest, Father Michael from the college, to be precise, standing by our carriage.

"Good day to you gentlemen." Father called out cheerfully. "Is there some service I can do for you?"

My father's voice boomed across the small space, overflowing with cheer. If I weren't certain he was acting, I would have believed him myself.

"Are you Sir George Collier, holder of the Wevshire Estates?"

"Yes, Father, I am. You have me at a disadvantage."

"I am Father Michael, one of the instructors at the college. I am afraid there have been several accusations made of your family name. Is this your daughter, Emily?"

"Yes, it is. What sort of accusations, might I ask?"

"It would be better, Sir, if we could speak of this privately. If you would kindly accompany my men to the school, we can discuss this in my offices."

"Dear Father Michael, had you come alone and unarmed I would gladly accompany you anywhere. When a man brings three armed guards with him, I accompany him nowhere. If you have an official warrant for my arrest, then present it to me here in public; otherwise, step away from my coach, and return to me my driver!"

Father Michael spoke quietly, compassionately, "The warrant isn't for you, Sir George, it's for your daughter."

"Preposterous! What's the charge?!"

"Witchcraft, sir."

"This is absolute nonsense. What proof have you?!"

"We have a document which was discovered on the person of one John Cunningham, a former student here, who has also been accused."

My heart sank immediately - John, arrested! My poems in the hands of the church! I looked at Father in horror, but his gaze never left the priest.

"And what does this document say?"

"Well, Sir, it's apparently some form of poetry, containing several heresies against God, and one specific mention of magic."

"If my daughter has accidentally offended the church, it is a matter between her and her confessor. No poem is enough to convict a person of witchcraft."

"It is not that simple, Sir, I have orders for her arrest."

"Father Michael, I consider myself to be a fair man. And as a Knight, my word can certainly be trusted. Therefore, I will make you this generous offer. For each of your men, enough coin for his own horse and a new sword. For your school, a new wing for your terribly overstocked library."

"You cannot buy the church, Sir, nor your daughter's soul." Father Michael stepped aside and the guards moved to arrest me.

Like lightning, my Father drew his sword and stepped between us. The armored soldiers outmatched him quickly, once disarmed, they forced him to his knees.

"You may beg forgiveness and save your soul," said Father Michael grimly.

Father spat at him. "Never! My soul is my own, and not for you to forgive!"

"Do your duty, Sir," Father Michael seized my arm and pulled me away as I saw the soldier thrust his sword into my Father's chest.

Our screams were one! No louder or more horrible a sound had ever been uttered. I felt weak all at once. The world faded.

I awoke as they placed me in a cell, around me my cellmates looked like demons from Dante's Inferno. I tried to scream and shook my head, gasping. The room reeked of urine and excrement, the floor, the people were covered and streaked with it. As my senses became clearer, I realized most of them weren't streaked with excrement, it was blood.

I felt dizzy again and held the wall for support. It was slick, slimy with some form of mildew. I was stunned that humans could even survive under these conditions.

I shared my cell with a half dozen other women, most of them looked old. All were lying down or leaning against the wall. Many had fresh wounds, some openly bleeding, others looked pallid as if death would come momentarily.

The memory of what had happened came back slowly. A cold numb fog slipped over me. The world's edges felt less sharp, less real. I should cry, I thought, but nothing was there, no remorse, no sadness, no pain, nothing.

I awoke to a kick, a guard wrenching me to my feet.

"Let's go, witch, His Excellency made a special trip to meet you!"

"Water," I begged. I was terribly thirsty. How long had I slept?

"You'll be needing a lot o' that where you're going," he laughed. His accent was either Scottish or Irish; his tone was callous, devoid of all feeling.

I was half dragged from the prison to a church like structure across a courtyard. I could see that one wing contained a small chapel, the rest was a low squarish building with a minimum of decorative architecture around the windows and corners.

I was led into a long dark room, well furnished with rows of candles to supply its only light. At the end was a desk with an officious-looking priest behind it.

Next to the priest was the Bishop, in his full splendor, with robes flowing over a very large abdomen. Off to the right side of the room stood Father Michael, and the Monsignor, who ran the school.

"Bring forth the accused," the bishop spoke softly, but his words filled the room with their resonance.

I was brought to a rail, which ran across most of the room, cutting off any direct access to either the priest or the bishop.

"Read the charges."

"On the day of September 19th, in the year of our Lord, 1597, one John Cunningham was arrested on the charges of witchcraft and heresy. Found on the young man were documents written by the accused, which contained several heresies against the church, and one outright statement claiming a magic of love possessing the young man. In her own words, Your Excellency, she bragged of capturing his soul from its righteous path into God's service."

"And how does the accused plead," the bishop's eyes looked both tired and kind hearted, perhaps this man would listen to reason.

"Your Excellency," I managed my best lady like demeanor. "I plead innocent to these charges they have brought before me."

The bishop held up the sheets of paper on which I had written both a letter and a poem to my poor John.

"Do you deny that these documents were written by your own hand," His eyes sparked a hope; if I say yes, he might spare me.

"No, Your Excellency, I wrote them, I believe that their meanings were misconstrued however; they are not about witchcraft and stealing souls, but instead about the beauty and the joy of love."

"There is no love greater than the love of God. Your poem lies in direct conflict to that. Your letter promises to lead young John away from a dull and dutiful life. Both of these are proof of heresy and it is my opinion that supernatural coercion may have been used to lead the young man astray. Do you deny this?"

This time, there was no hope, but challenge in his eyes. "Yes, Your Excellency. I deny the charge."

"See if torture won't bring the truth out. Return her to me in a week, unless she confesses earlier."

Torture? Me? My mind reeled. "Please, Your Excellency, I'm innocent! I swear it!"

"Then you have nothing to fear, child." He turned and left the chamber as I was dragged by two guards' back to my cell. Once there I had to relieve myself on the floor. I felt disgusting and dirty. An hour later we were given some filthy, vile water to drink. I spit it out immediately and the guard said, "That's holy water, missy. Now we know where we really stand, don't we?"

The rest of the inmates drank the water with no complaint, save for one who had been asleep or unconscious since I arrived. A short time later the guard returned and put my wrists into a heavy iron shackle.

"Don't try to do anything suspicious, witch, or I can run you through right here." He led me through two thick wooden doors to a darkened room with only one candle burning. A voice from the far corner of the room said, "Strap her in the chair and remove her shackles. She has no power on holy ground." The guard looked fearful, but obeyed.

"Good. Now tie her arms tightly to the arms of the chair, then you may leave." His voice sounded dry and gentle, but my heart raced at the thought of what he had in store for me. My head was strapped to the back of this monstrosity we well, so I couldn't turn to see my attacker's face.

"Such a beautiful young lady. It would be a shame to have to mark such beauty. And, as you can see, I am a man who understands beauty.

I froze, speechless, as he stepped into view; I had expected a monster. Instead I was looking into one of the most handsome faces I had ever seen.

"I really don't want to hurt you," he said, checking the door and then barring it with a board.

"Perhaps you and I can become friends." His hand brushed my cheek gently, then slid down and cupped my breast. Inwardly, I cringed at his touch. I still couldn't think of a word to say.

"You don't like me?" He had noticed my face. "I'm truly hurt. Perhaps I can persuade you to like me."

I strained desperately against the leather bonds, letting them cut deeply into my flesh. Suddenly my body no longer felt paralyzed. Suddenly I wanted out, and now.

"Easy there my new love. There's no need to cause yourself excess pain. You will have more than your share in a moment."

He took a pincer from his table and held it affectionately. "Such a simple device, and yet so good at its job." He walked over to me and stroked my right hand gently. "Tell me that you love me, and I won't harm you."

Should I? What harm could a lie do? Then I realized, if I say I love him, he will take me as his willing lover.

"No."

"Such a pity, and such lovely nails too."

I balled my fingers together but he was prepared for that. He slammed the pincer against the back of my hand and I screamed. He forced my index finger open and the world exploded. Such excruciating pain! Was that really my voice screaming? It sounded so hollow and distant, like I'm drifting away from it.

Things wavered and I was standing at the smoldering ruins of a building. My Father was there.

"Father, please help me!"

"I can't. I'm sorry, my darling, Emily, but I cannot reach you now."

"I can't go back. The pain! I can't!"

The world snapped back suddenly. I was still in that horrible chair, looking at my torturous smiling face, and the bloody mess of my finger. The pain was now a constant throb racing up my arm. My neck and head hurt as well from straining against the chair.

The torturer spoke words to me, soft words, over and over, I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Every so often he demanded that I answer; I began by saying no, then he pounded my injured hand with a hammer. Anything, anything to stop the pain. I shrieked.

He asked me if I was a witch, I said yes. He asked about my parents, I said yes, they were witches too. He asked if I had enchanted John Cunningham, I said yes. He asked me if I was a virgin, I said yes. This brought another pounding. Through tears I admitted that I had fornicated with the Devil himself many times. Then, he asked me if I loved him, and I said yes.

"Excellent," he hissed between his teeth. He released me from my bonds and lifted me from the chair. I had no strength to resist. He laid me on the table and tore off my undergarments.

He raped me. Over all it was the least painful thing I had experienced. I no longer cared what happened to my body. If I was to die then let it be done with. I spent untold hours lying in my cell. All I could think of was how pallid and lifeless some of my cellmates looked, and realized that I was the same.

Finally, I was brought again before the bishop. My confession was read and I was asked if I wished to change my plea. I said yes. I was guilty of everything. I confessed to anything they asked and begged for God's forgiveness. If part of me wanted to be strong, it had been silent or dead for days. All I longed for was death - the quicker, the better.

"The accused has plead guilty to the charges of witchcraft and heresy." She is to be burned at the stake, midday.

"Burned at the - please, Your Excellency, show me mercy."

"You will be given the proper mercy shown to those who turn against the Lord. Your confession gives you the right to be forgiven for your sins. It does not change your punishment."

The words meant nothing to me. The world wavered and I felt myself being carried back to the cell.

The wait seemed eternal, and yet the guards came all too soon. I made no effort to resist them, perhaps if I were a man, and trained in fighting too. The images of my Father being run through came back to me with sudden clarity.

"Oh, Father!" I wailed. The tears finally came. Had it been days or weeks since his murder - I wasn't sure. Without windows in this damned dungeon there was no way to keep track of time.

The guards were blissfully silent as they walked me to the center of the courtyard. I was stunned at the massive amounts of people that turned out. There were hundreds gathered around the center podium - the eagerness so obvious on their faces was nauseating.

"Bring 'em out" A man's voice cried.

"Burn them. Burn them," chanted several people over and over, like a perverse litany.

Behind the podium were two large stakes that had been pounded into the ground. Next to them were blackened rings with broken, angry stumps stabbing up at the air. A little further off were the piles of kindling - broken trees and branches that somehow looked as unwilling to join in this ceremony as I was.

The stake, which was basically the body of a tree, roughly hewn, and untreated, scratched at my arms and neck as my hands were tied behind me. Then, a length of chain was brought. Beginning at my feet, the guards wrapped it tightly around me, stopping at the breast level.

"A shame to ruin those, isn't it." The guard squeezed my right breast hard, causing a cheer to rise up from the crowd. I fought back the urge to say something; I knew that anything I said or did was merely entertainment for the masses.

After securing me, an old woman was brought out and fastened to the second stake in a similar manner. She begged and pleaded for mercy. Her body showed scars of many beatings. For what?! I thought. To suffer longer in there and die this unthinkable death here anyway? To give torturers and jailers their sport and weaken yourself just to avoid the inevitable?

"That one's too quiet - rip her dress down!" shouted one lout, pointing at me.

God, am I really a human being? Am I truly the same as this pack of animals, sitting and waiting for their prey to die? Perhaps this is what beings of better stock meant, and better breeding.

Finally, a priest stepped up to the handmade podium. He silenced the crowd with his hands. "Good people! These two women who stand before you have been found guilty of witchcraft and heresy against the church. Let them serve as an example to those who wish to stray from the flock; lured by the sweet voice of temptation. The Devil's path is a false one and those who follow it must face the sword of God's wrath!"

As he spoke, the guards had gathered a large pile of branches around the two women. I was surprised at the amount they had gathered for it was as high as my waist and looked almost a yard's length thick. Behind me one of the guards coated the stake with some sort of liquid, when it poured over my hands it felt like oil.

The priest finished his sermon and blessed the people. He asked the guards if they were ready; they answered yes. He turned to us and pronounced, "May God have mercy on your souls." And he signaled the guards to begin.

Two torches were brought forward - I couldn't believe this was happening. The guard lit the wood in three places around me. The onlookers cheered. Across from me, the old woman shrieked once and slumped against the stake. She's lucky - I wish I could faint. I could start to feel the heat as the flames climbed. It was comforting at first, and that scared the hell out of me. It continued to grow and get closer.

"God, please, oh, please, stop this madness!"

More cheers from the crowd. Searing heat up my back and my hands. Oh, God! My hair is on fire. No. The pain, it's too much! My hands, my God. The smell. My hands are cooking! I can smell them....

I was nowhere, in an empty space. There was no more pain, no burning. I felt as if it had all been a bad dream. In my hand was a cloth sack, it felt like it contained grain or seeds of some sort, but I knew that it contained my poems. I had to give them to someone for safekeeping. Someone who would keep them hidden until it was safe to share them with the world.

I stopped floating, my feet touched ground, all was black though, I could see nothing. I walked on in utter darkness for hours, finally there was a speck of light on the horizon. It was a man bent over a small cooking fire. As I drew closer I could see that he wore some form of robe. But, what sort of world is this, with no stars, and no trees, no wind, and no water? Is this hell perhaps? Is that Satan waiting for me?

No, somehow I know that this person is not evil. He looks at me as I approach, why does he look so sad? His eyes are gray, like my Father's, where is my Father? Can I reach him from this place?

"I've brought you something," I said, holding out the bag of seeds. "You are to protect and nourish these, never let them die. They are the core of my being. Preserve them, and keep them safe, until someone comes who is strong enough to claim them for himself. Then, guide him well, show him their real beauty so that he can bring them back into the world."

As I said this, the stars began to shine over the world, one grew particularly large and surrounded me in an aura of light.

"Come," said a voice. "You're home now."

"Father!" I exclaimed. It was his voice, I was certain. I let go and found myself floating upward into the starlight. The light's brilliance increased until all else faded.

"Welcome back," the voice was familiar, and I realized I was looking at a mirror image of myself. Well, not exactly a mirror image; he looked bigger somehow, healthier, more robust and energetic. There are no proper words for it, but he's more me somehow.

"I am what some people would call your higher self," he said. "However, I prefer the term more complete self, for a higher self implies that there is a lower self, and that is serious misconception."

What does one say to a higher, I mean, more complete self? "Uh, hi, nice to meet you."

He smiled pure radiance. "It is nice to meet you too. I believe you summoned me here to answer some questions."

"I did? I do have questions but I'm not sure how I summoned you."

"With this," he said, holding up the flute.

"Oh, of course! Then it was the Monk who summoned you." The monk looked at me, and shook his head in the slightest negation. My more complete self just smiled and said, "We will discuss that in a minute; however, why don't you start your questions."

"Okay, what exactly is this place?"

"It is a living metaphor of your soul, and quite a good one I might add. You began it in your after life as Emily, and it's held true until now."

"Okay, I can accept that I was Emily, and Marlena in other lives, but how come the Monk is here and Angelica?"

"They are portions of yourself as well, portions from which you have created artificial barriers. In order to continue growing, you must accept them back into your life."

"How?"

"When the time is right, you will know how. It will come naturally."

"That's not very helpful."

"I'm sorry, sometimes I have to be vague or it will ruin the essence of the experience."

"I have another question. If I'm really Emily, and Marlena, and I'm also the Monk and Angelica, then who am I? I mean, I'm John, I'm a whole person, not just some link in a chain."

"Indeed you are a whole person, and so is each of the people you have mentioned, yet every whole person is composed of many parts, far more parts, than you realize."

"I'm confused."

"Perhaps some more examples will help clarify things; you enjoy bike riding, have you ever wondered why?"

"No, I just enjoy it, it's my way of flying."

My more complete self smiled broadly. "That's exactly what another aspect of yourself thinks, when he sees bicycles go by. He is paralyzed and restricted to a wheelchair; your life is the reality of his dreams.

"In your world, your dog Dusty is paralyzed. Through your interactions with him your other self learns of the difficulties involved with caring for the physically challenged, as he calls it.

"He doesn't remember these experiences directly, but occasionally remembers them in the dream state. It's an important lesson for him in patience and compassion.

"But back to you, or at least you as you perceive and therefore limit, your individuality. You've already learned that your writing ability was a gift from Emily, but what about your respect and love of nature, your unique ability to communicate with animals, and as you've so recently learned, plants?"

"I never thought about it."

"In linear time, there is an aspect of yourself who lives as a Druid around 1000 AD. He longs for a son with whom he can share his knowledge; you are that son."

"But what's mine then? Is there anything out there that I do myself better than my other aspects?"

"It's not a question of better, or who did what first. That's like the ancient riddle of the chicken and the egg. The only real answer is that it doesn't matter, both exist in harmony with each other.

"If you find it more comfortable, I'll tell you where your dreams travel. There is an aspect of yourself who became a professional bicycle racer. He was and is inspired by your competitive nature when you ride.

"Another aspect of yourself is an astronaut, from you she learned a great deal about computers, and she shared your passion for exploration. She learned a great deal from you, and sees you in her dreams as an old wise man.

"But if all these people are part of me, and I suppose that I am a part of them, where does one begin and the other end? I remember some of Marlena's life, but not Angelica's. She was my daughter, not me, so how can she be a part of me?

"Ahh, I think we are approaching the real problem. You are afraid of losing yourself, your uniqueness, as you learn about other aspects. Now, before I answer your question about Angelica answer me this: Do you accept the notion of non-linear time?"

"Yes, as best I can."

"Good. Now if time were linear and you lost your identity with every reincarnation, as you think of it; then the present person known as John McNally would cease to exist at the moment of his death. And the next link in the chain, let's call him Bob Smith, would be born."

"Yes, that's.... that's... That is exactly what I'm afraid of, losing my identity!"

"This is a common fear, but a very important one to come to terms with. Now since you can accept the idea that time is non-linear, what does that do to the sequential reincarnation theory?"

"I thought about that for a moment."

"It throws it out the window," was the best answer I could think of.

"Good, then you are ready to accept the truth, that Emily and Marlena still exist and have moved onto different experiences."

"But have they moved on as Emily and Marlena?"

"Yes. The identity they possessed on Earth is still a part of them; however, as each person grows, they take on new characteristics. Are you exactly the same person you were 10 years ago? 5? Or even 1?"

"No, I'm not."

"But you still know who you are."

"Yes."

"Then you can relax, and remember that it will continue in the same manner after physical death."

"Now, onto your questions concerning these other two fine entities here. First, Angelica: When Marlena felt that her life was becoming hopeless, she poured a great deal of her own life energy into becoming a child again; a chance to start over if you will. By then, she had already planned to leave the Earth, not believing in her personal strength to change her life. She hoped to have a happy life as Angelica, only as you already know; Angelica's life was far from happy."

I broke into tears. I couldn't help it, I knew the words he said were true, and I was filled with tremendous sorrow for such wasted lives.

"It's okay, we're going to make things better now."

It was Angelica, putting her arms around my legs and hugging me. I put my hand down and mussed her hair a bit.

When Emily died she knew that she needed someone to protect and pass on her gift when the time was right. She didn't realize though that she created the Monk, and gave him life with her thoughts. Now you are here as her legacy, and the Monk is ready to move on."

"So in order for each of us to continue growing, we must accept each other back into our lives!" I exclaimed, "It makes so much sense now, why did it take me so long to understand?"

"You had to let go of old fears, and negative beliefs, these things are not always easy to accept."

"Now I remember what that funny triangle is for!" shouted Angelica. "It's called a tryne, and it's composed of three equal parts which give each other strength and harmony!"

"That's exactly correct. Now do you know what to do?" The more complete me asked.

"Uh-huh. We three join hands and relax." She took my hand in hers and together we joined hands with the Monk. I could feel the warmth spread as a glowing light encircled us.

"Now," asked my other self, "What are you going to do with this experience?"

"Write it out, of course. I've always had trouble finding stories. I don't think that will be a problem anymore."

"And so the first new tree blossoms in the void," he said. Then to Angelica, "And what will you do?"

"I want to be a little girl again, but in a happier family this time."

The more complete me smiled and turned to the Monk, "And you, my friend, where shall you go now that your task is finished?"

The Monk smiled at the other-me and answered in a quiet voice, "I think I would like to be a singer."

Then, as we laughed, the glow increased and we wished each other a fond farewell.

I found myself standing in my bedroom, fully dressed as if nothing had happened. I looked at the notebook in my hand: "I took a walk one day off the end of the world." it began, and to the best of my ability I finished transcribing the rest of the story.

Copyright 2000, John McNally. Printed in the August-September 2000 Issue of the Conscious Creation Journal. (Feel free to duplicate this article for personal use - please include this copyright notice.)

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Marion the Magnet’s First Mission
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Illustrated by John Blair Moore

Marion the Magnet is chosen to travel to the planet Earth with his wise grandfather to teach the children about their own magnetic powers…the magnetic power of thought!

In the book Marion helps a young girl, Katie, understand the importance of thinking and daydreaming about what she wants to attract with her magnetic powers of thought. When the other children are using their magnetic powers to attract fun things such as skateboards and new video games Katie is trying to use her magnetic powers to help her family through a challenging situation. Her father has been out of work for sometime and they are close to the point of becoming homeless.

WHAT A COINCIDENCE Understanding Synchronicity In Everyday Life
by Susan M Watkins

Overview:

What if all those seemingly insignificant little What a coincidence! moments you've experienced were actually connected, were part of a larger, more complex coincidence story?

What if they were hinting at something very personal and important about yourself—and about the workings of human consciousness?

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SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW

Seth Sessions Listing – compiled by Mary Dillman.

See what we look like. Add your own picture! – John M. set up a webpage where we can add our photos. It also features a global map that shows where folks are located.

The Personal Sessions, Vol. 7 – The series deleted sessions dealing with personal material are now available. Vol. 7, now in process, will complete publication of ALL the Seth Material! By Rick Stack and New Awareness Network.

Sethnet Speaks, January 2006 – compiled by Paul Helfrich.

The Classic Seth Portrait by Rob Butts This is a low resolution scan for those interested.

Check out the Mindscapes Music CD - Listen online to 22 tracks of music from Paul Helfrich. Also available for purchase.

Conscious Creation Links – Conscious Creation Publishers, Book Stores, Websites, Journals, Newsletters, Mailing Lists, Message Boards, and more.

The Elias forum - website by Paul & Joanne Helfrich contains an expansion of many of the conscious creation concepts introduced by Seth/Jane Roberts, channeled by Mary Ennis.

What if the Seth material was a foundation to be expanded later by other channeled sources? Can any perennial source ever be considered complete AND infallible?

Seth readers will want to check out:
Introduction & Overview
A Seth, Elias Comparative Overview (Updated!)
Digest: Seth, Jane Roberts

The Kris Chronicles - an expansion of many of the conscious creation concepts introduced by Seth/Jane Roberts, channeled by Serge Grandbois.

A Kris, Seth, Elias Comparative Overview (Updated!) - a preliminary comparison of core concepts in the Seth material, information offered by Elias, and Kris Chronicles

Otherfocus.com the personal website of Donald R. Johnson

Explore the creative worlds of John McNally and Kristen Fox Cofounders of the Conscious Creation Website and Email group John and Kristen share interests in writing, art, photography and cooking which they explore on a variety of websites:

John's weblog: Parabolic Mirror
Intuitive Astrology site: Psychic Weather
Writing: Mind Altering Fiction
Photography: Telepathicfrog
Cooking: Food Follies
Shop: Telepathic Frog Designs
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Kristen's weblog: FoxVox
Art & Photo Gallery: Art of FoxVox
Art & Photo Prints: Deviant Art
Floral Designs Shop: Flower Bed Gifts
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