Luxor
I moved into my retreat in a Swiss mountain village Leysin in April 2008, having settled into solitude after Ronald’s curt instruction several months earlier, ‘Now, go – and grow!’ Growing involved my being alone, a lot, and I had been exploring my ‘spiritual path’, both consciously and conscientiously. A pilgrimage to Egypt in April was central in my exploration and an evening in the temple at Luxor at full moon was pivotal. Luxor was/is the headquarters of Serapis Bey, a being unknown to me before my visit but one of my several guides, as I was later informed.
Our small group was to hold ceremony at the temple with the Wesak full moon. The moon was enormous, brilliant and so close it seemed to fill the landscape and immediate surroundings of the temple – the columns sharply defined and shining white in the luminous lunar searchlight. Some members of our group were milling around in front of these, leaning up against them and feeling the weight of history, sensing the density of shadows behind them. I had a strong desire to remain in the front, with the light of the full moon, which was quite possibly a ‘super moon’, on my face.
Two white-robed figures were moving swiftly and deftly amongst us, a woman and a man, tall beautiful other-worldly. Not traveling with us but known to the leader and some of our group, and the ceremony was shaping up under their guidance. They were selecting and positioning individuals gently somewhere on an invisible geometric pattern on the ground, seen and sensed only by them. I found myself guided to the centre of what was appearing as an inner circle. It felt like being choreographed and I stood firm in my place.
As the shape grew and our group morphed into a large five-pointed star held within a large circle, I began to sense an unfamiliar energetic sensation. It started in my feet. They felt rooted, literally as if roots were growing from my soles, breaking through the cracks in the stone surface of the temple floor, forcing their way into the crust of the soil below and into the earth itself. I could no longer move my feet. They were anchored. And there was a vibration, a tingling of energy moving up my legs and into the base of my spine. I could feel the moonlight full on my face but, with my eyes closed, I had shifted into another ‘space’ altogether. An altered space in the real sense.
Some kind of ceremony was taking place around me. I could hear invocations and soft singing; a beautiful pure female voice, crystalline in the night air of the Luxor silence. Then at some point the ceremonial activity ceased and there was a shuffling as the circle and the pattern began to disintegrate and unravel. I opened my eyes adjusting to this other dimension, swaying a little. But I could not move my feet. I was rigid, fixed, anchored. My roots had penetrated deep. There was a little consternation and some remedial action. I was aware of my friend Beth holding me gently but firmly and trying to steer me away from the invisible grip emanating from the temple floor, finally breaking the magnetic hold.
Later that night trying to sleep in the airconditioned hotel room I experienced unbelievable pain in my head for several hours. Earlier that day we had travelled to the valley of the Kings in an intense and unseasonal heatwave. Temperatures had reached an impossible 52 degrees, and I was unable to enter any of the tombs, the heat coming out of them blasting up like a furnace and burning my face as I bent down in an attempt to climb down into one of them. The next morning we were due to rise at 4.30am in order to travel up the Nile in a number of hot air balloons at sunrise. A ride in a hot air balloon had been on my mother’s list of unfulfilled dreams, and I had intended to enjoy this ride for both of us.
At 4.00am I got up and went to the bathroom, aware of a warm liquid spewing from my right ear into my hand. It was golden and I was deaf.
***
I rested and remained indoors while the group had their balloon sunrises, and then we traveled to Karnak in the afternoon, another formidable experience in the heat. My discomfort grew the following day and on the second evening after my full moon experience in the cooler evening air, I visited an ear, nose and throat specialist in the backstreets of Luxor. This involved climbing over a line of men, women and children seated on narrow stairs which spiraled up to his second-floor room in a dilapidated building. I was being guided up and jumping the queue by an Egyptian driver from the hotel. The specialist, having examined me and the golden discharge, was mystified and prescribed antibiotics although, as I recall, his diagnosis did not refer to any specific infection. I myself had not felt undue concern either but was reassured none the less, and the antibiotics reassured the others in the group.
Returning to the hotel after this glimpse into another slice of life in Luxor, I sought out our group leader, Michelle, hoping for some clarity about what she thought had happened on an energetic level and why. I was now wearing a turquoise headscarf in a twenties-like turban and holding a wad of cotton wool in place over my right ear, which continued its outpouring of golden liquid in a slow but steady stream.
Here, once again in writing these memoirs, I am aware that it is necessary to suspend the rational mind. In her room, with Beth and I, Michelle tuned in with my question. Master Kuthumi promptly came through, as if he had expected us. As I could not hear, Beth was scribbling furiously, obviously a scribe in a previous life! Apparently, this visit to Egypt was an important part of my process in remembering my soul’s purpose. I was being prepared to bring through particular frequencies in the music which comes through me. In effect and in essence I am a kind of channel. Although I resist this term, this is indeed what I am and what I have been doing since 2003 when the music returned to me. Kuthumi explained that during this time of great change, a shift in consciousness will be experienced by earth and humanity. New fluid geometries and light frequencies will be a large part of the process as humanity begins to awaken.
These new light frequencies and fluid geometries travel in sound, and my music is a contribution to bringing these through and I would start to do it during the coming year. I tried to make sense as this explanation unfolded . ‘So, why the loss of hearing?’
There are dark forces resisting the process of enlightening the earth. Negative energies whose interest in blocking my role in this process was clear in the attempt at an ‘implant’. The effort to subvert things had culminated in my experience in the Luxor temple. The sense I had had there of dark negative energies lurking in the field of shadows filling the unlit portions of the ruins came back to me now as I was guided through Kuthumi’s explanation.
‘It was a shoddy job’ he said then, and ‘steps have been underway to remove it. Hence the sensation of bursting following the searing pain I had experienced after the full moon ceremony and before the golden liquid had started to flow. I continued taking the antibiotics, to reassure my rational mind, but my non-rational right brain was totally satisfied with the clarification I had been given as to what my music is about – an answer to a key question I had been holding for some time.
***
I still could not hear anything. The sensation was like having my head inside a thick glass sphere; an inverted goldfish bowl or vintage space helmet fitted at the throat with no sound coming through at all. It was silent inside except for the sound of the silence which was like the whooshing of the ocean. I imagined this could be the sound of deep space, the sound of light as it rushes past one on its way to somewhere else light years away in the universe. This sound was in the universe of my own head, however, and the rest of the world, people, events, communication was like a silent movie. I was completely cut off from this other world. Beth began to act as my interpreter in all ways, helping me navigate through this confusing time in an unfamiliar culture and soundscape. And I was still waking up every morning with a perfect golden sphere on my pillow, like a sun disk!
In the lobby of the large hotel where our group stayed during our last few days in Cairo was a large black grand piano. It drew me and I had a strong urge to play, to play for peace in this complex region. We lit candles and members of the group were seated around the piano with their packed belongings in the process of taking our leave from Egypt and each other. In a way, I had taken my leave prematurely as I had withdrawn into my silence. But now I sat at the piano and pressed a single note. I heard nothing. Not sure if anything had in fact sounded, I looked at Beth. She nodded. It had.
I started to play, not hearing a single note. I felt the vibrations of course, and my eyes closed as my fingers moved up and down the keys – as they do when the music comes through. I played for about ten minutes, and someone recorded this download, which I listened to much later when my hearing returned. It was a plea for peace – there were moments of passion and deep pain coming through but the concluding part of this unheard ‘recital’ sounded full of promise, of potential, and it ended on a note almost of joy.
Several bystanders had stopped to listen, and the music seemed to have touched a few hearts. The man behind the bar who had resisted finding us the key to the locked piano, citing all sorts of reasons why guests could not play this piano seemed silenced, holding a dishcloth and gazing over at us, me and the piano. It seemed as though he had listened deeply too.
Later that evening we boarded our flight to Geneva, still in a fog and relying increasingly on Beth for guidance and actual intervention, ordering meals, paying bills, getting me back safely to my retreat in the Swiss mountain village where I could regain my balance, go deep within and tap into what this gift of enforced silence was all about. I was still not at all as perturbed and concerned as others seemed to be. Sensory deprivation was another experience, and I was curious as to what would unfold.
As I settled into my retreat, my hearing slowly began to return. It was early spring and the first sounds I became aware of were the songs of birds. Birdsong. I began to listen deeply and heard sound in a completely new and very different way. As if my auditory senses were able now to hear a wider range of audible, and perhaps even inaudible frequencies. I did some research on birdsong and arose early to record it at dawn with my newly acquired technology. I found a description which enchanted me. Birds attune the third dimension to the beautiful blue band surrounding the planet – taking us to the outer boundary where it meets cosmic sound. Such is the magnitude, magnificence and miracle of birdsong.