BACK IN ENGLAND AGAIN, we left Heathrow airport to cut through the wet worn suburbs of the city and head out through the diminishing signs of over-civilization into the village-dotted countryside, all awash in the weary grey of England in the last dragging months of winter. We arrived late that night at the faerie fields of Avalon, bathed in the insistent and timeless peace of its soft hills and coombes steeped in age and legend.
Since our mission began, whatever funds we had managed to raise we ploughed back into the work and, with all the traveling that was required, we could not afford to keep a regular home waiting for us in Glastonbury. For several years we had lived in curious and eccentric dwellings that included a cave and an ambulance. This may sound like a charming gypsy life but I can tell you it was not. The constant upheaval was, and still is, a high price to pay.
A couple of miles from Glastonbury we turned down a rutted dirt driveway, past an apple orchard and a field that was home to a couple of donkeys. We pulled up to the tiny wooden bowered bridge that spanned the stream running beside our cabin nestled under the limbs of an oak. We had arrived home at ‘The Dove’.
The Dove Center, so called because it is located in the sign of the Dove in the Glastonbury Zodiac, is a farm which had been bought by an artist couple and turned into a commune for other artists and musicians. Bronwyn and Roger were now its only occupants. Bronwyn was a painter of some renown and Roger made exquisite dulcimers. We had arrived at their farm one sunny summer’s day after a trip to Bali, having seen their sign from the road into Glastonbury. Something told us to ask the taxi driver to pull down the long dirt driveway, at the end of which stood Bronwyn with a puzzled yet welcoming look on her face. The three of us spilled out in a disarrayed jumble and introduced ourselves. We had just arrived from Bali, we explained, and had nowhere to go; did she have a space for us? This was quite out of character for us and perhaps for Bronwyn too, but she found herself offering us the use of a tepee until something else could be arranged.
I was relieved when we were eventually able to leave the tepee. The flap at the apex of the structure that let out the smoke from the fire in the center of the room was just as effective at letting in the rain. With all our suitcases we felt like square pegs in a round hole. Jiva received permission from Roger and Bronwyn to build a temporary structure in their field to get us through the spring months. This he did in three days. We retrieved, for £5 each, twenty-three old front doors from the reclamation center and Jiva erected them around a wooden platform. Each door had a window and the front of the cabin was all glass. The roof was a huge canvas thrown over a lattice work of wood slatting. There was no bathroom or even running water. We were very much off the grid. Our cabin sat at one end of a lush green field with a Celtic tree circle of thirteen different trees that Bronwyn and Roger had planted twenty-two years ago. In this modest yet powerfully peaceful sanctuary we fell asleep to the haunted calling of owls and awoke to cooing doves, the cawing of crows and pheasants pecking at the door to be fed.
This humble little shack that was meant only as a stop-gap for a few months was our refuge, off and on, for several years. On one occasion we traded homes with friends in Los Angeles. Luxuriating in their spacious mansion with a swimming pool, we were astounded to learn that their week in our shack had been the best and most magical part of their tour of England.
That year we returned from California in the wet and grim but, mercifully, not-too-cold late winter. Winters in the cabin were brutal when frost formed on the inside of the windows and we had to burn a wood fire to defrost the fuel in the gas heater. The outer layer of the many quilts on the bed would be covered with a frozen sheen of moisture. We wore woolly hats to bed, otherwise we would wake with terrible headaches from the numbing cold. It would take some time to get to the point when we could bear to make our way to the outside toilet and shower a couple of hundred yards away in Bronwyn and Roger’s studio courtyard.
We spent the next few months holding workshops and training new ambassadors and then we turned our attention to the White Spring. Our growing dedication to the ever evolving Template was steadily taking over our lives and the White Spring was left in the hands of the manager and staff. We did, however, continue to create unique and intricate wands and jewelry to sell and this provided the financial backbone that kept the Spring open. Our work with the Template waned in the summer months and we were content to stop traveling a while and enjoy our cabin, which became a perfect studio for our craft.
The total solar eclipse of 1999 was a week away and, unbeknownst to us, was to herald the coming of the 13th Circuit of Activation and Integration. The first twelve Foundation Circuits had been hard won and we were basking in their nurture. Their reconnection had provided a stable platform of key elementary reconciliation of the fundamental Human condition on which to stage the emotional resolution that would allow for the retrieval of a more expanded identity base.
With the reconnection of the Water Circuits we had forgiven those we loved and those we did not. We had accepted that life was not happening to us, but because of us; that mother and father are sacred and, despite what we may or may not have enjoyed or suffered under their guardianship, they were the stargate through which we entered existence and that, beyond the wounds and scars our parents carried from their own inability to flourish in this mutant, dualistic paradigm, they loved us more than life itself.
With the reconnection of the Air Circuits we forgave those dark power-holders who had, down through the ages, caused fear to enter our vibrational fields. We empowered ourselves with the conscious knowledge that we were the Source generating all the experiences that we had.
With the Earth Circuit reconnected, we fell back into the lap of the Mother and reaffirmed our allegiance to our emerald-blue planet spinning through the galaxy. We reinstated an electromagnetic conduit into the very body of her wisdom, allowing a sublime influx of Earth awareness to deliver its simple natural truth into the pituitary-hypothalamus-pineal complex, rendering ourselves sentient instruments through which Source Consciousness could interface with this planetary bio-computer.
The Fire Circuit broke our covenant with death. In one aesthetically compelling moment of ceremonial awareness we introduced the frequency of immortality into our field of perception and into the entire planetary biospheric membrane. Never was there a time when we did not exist…never would there come a time when we would cease to be! This immortal creed challenged in one poetic sweep the greatest deceit ever perpetrated upon Humanity.
With the reconnection of the Ether Circuits we revealed and denounced guilt and shame, inviting light to enter our hearts, placing love as the central cohesive sacrament which defines our core existence.
We did not know it, but we were now ready for the 13th Circuit.
Jiva and I had decided to view the eclipse from Glastonbury Tor, where we would witness a 98% eclipse. That would have to do, as the report from Cornwall, where the total eclipse was to be seen, was of water and food shortages and day-long traffic jams. All hotel and bed-and-breakfast accommodation had been booked up for several years. To be honest, we were not particularly drawn to the event and were disinclined to undertake the arduous pilgrimage to Cornwall.
Three days before the eclipse both Jiva and I awoke just before dawn to an intense and insistent Presence in our one-room cabin. Reluctant to leave sleep and the womb of our warm bed, we arose and lit a candle on the altar that was framed by the melting night sky as another Avalon dawn slowly illuminated our secret field. The visitation was unexpected. Usually we would be aware a day or two in advance that a communication of some intensity was approaching and would prepare for it on various levels. However, that dawn found us disorientated by the residue of sleep that still clung to our thoughts, clutching hot mugs of tea, the steam spiraling up to merge with the incense lit on the altar. Welcoming and resisting the event, we slowly became present.
A momentum of vibration built and set the cabin thrumming around us. As the sky became soft with the promise of day and the leaves of the oak whispered in the first morning breeze, the living truth of creation beckoned us to trust. We rode our breath through the stargate of time and space into the embrace of the moment, each breath releasing tension and resistance and adherence to the norm, leaving room for the impossible. The Awareness in the cabin merging with our own, we shared a vision that slipped seamlessly into our consciousness.
The scope of the vision radiated out in a holographic panorama from the third eye in a spherical projection that held us in its center. I was the center of the universe (as I had always suspected), as was every other point of light. Wheels within wheels… all around were the churning interactive fractals of co-creative consciousness establishing the mechanics of resonance that govern the synchronomic forces of manifestation, light informing transmissions of divine cognizance pulsating through the hyper-mandalic holography of the one matrix, the geometry of it making all things simultaneously and inconceivably one and different.
We were backstage at the continuum. The centrifugal crystalline generator that received, translated and transmitted the divine hyper-coded life covenant into usable data for our solar system was the grand Maha-spheric gateway to the Heart of the Cosmos…our Sun; the womb from which all is birthed into time and space. This was our first visionary introduction to the symbiosis of the holography that forms the matrix of manifestation. It would be some time before we came to understand that the symbiosis of our solar system had been adulterated to create the dualistic fear-based paradigm which Humanity now inhabits.
Opening my eyes, I saw that the Sun had risen and splayed its honey fingers across the altar, causing the treasures upon it to glint and glimmer.
“We’ll use the rent money,” Jiva said, bringing me back to earth.
“What for?” I asked.
“The petrol to get to Cornwall,” he said.
We headed down to the south Cornish coast with tent and sleeping bags in a state of high excitement. Warriors, we would battle the traffic and walk there if necessary.
As always Cornwall was stunning; a Tolkien tome come to life, its powerful cliff tops strewn with crumbling castles, soft undulating hills rolling down to the havens and coves where ancient fishing villages sat timeless and still. Miniature rose-wreathed thatched cottages, from which you might expect a hobbit to emerge, lined narrow cobbled lanes.
We had brought Zak with us, now a teenager, and several of his friends, and met with our friend and webmaster, Laurence. By sunset we had set up camp in a farmer’s field by the ocean. At ten the next morning we were gathered and waiting on a castle-crowned mount with a view of 360° that included the ocean, surrounded by several hundred people.
Some years earlier, in 1990, we had witnessed the total solar eclipse on the Big Island of Hawaii. This was our first experience of an eclipse and Jiva and I had many expectations of the event. Looking back, I remember hoping for some high spiritual experience that would galvanize my sense of being a galactic Human. At the darkening of the light the jungle around us was plunged into sudden, total and heavy silence, each living entity shocked and confused by the unexpected gloom. The phenomenon of a mass so gargantuan as to blot out the rays of their Sun was not a part of their souls’ original evolutionary covenant with light. All was suffused with a deep-sepia wash that took the day. An inexplicable sense of shame and guilt churned in the pit of my stomach and I felt the need to weep for something lost long ago. Even as the Sun returned its light there was an oily clinging residue of misery over everything. ‘Eclipse’ is defined as: ‘blot out, cloud, darken, dim, extinguish, obscure, overshadow, exceed, outdo, outshine’; terms of disempowerment, very different from conjunctions and alignments which imply interactive equal cooperation.
That morning on the mount in Cornwall before the eclipse began, the air was filled with expectation and a respectful deference. In the split second when the eclipse began a hush fell upon every living thing and a great ominous shadow slipped across the land like an ancient spell. I was intent on tuning in to the event in the expectation that I would experience a more activated sense of being a co-creative part of the universal holography and, in so doing, feel closer to the Source, closer to an expanded sense of identity beyond that portion which had awoken within this mutant paradigm. Instead, I found it difficult to focus on the eclipse itself as, essentially, I was not impelled to do so. My attention was drawn time and again to the people around me: I was being heavily buffeted by great waves of emotional turbulence which rose from the crowd. With so little time to make arrangements, we had not been able to find a more secluded spot in which to experience the event. In retrospect, I can now see that the response of the crowd was an important aspect of what I had come to learn.
Overwhelmed, I found my computational awareness shifting into hyper-drive and I began to tremble, not because I was attempting to integrate some higher frequency generated by an acceleration of life-force from the eclipse, but from the sheer force of un-integrated iconic recognition boiling out of the collective unconscious. As I surveyed the sea of faces around me raised to the heavens as one great expectant entity, I felt disempowerment settle like a film of grime upon us all – a miasmic communal paranoia. The field was a great confessional filled with the penitent. Upon many a face I saw a battle between the desire to remember and the desire to stay in denial of something which, if it were acknowledged, would change everything. The entire gathering was keeping at bay, in the deep recesses of things forgotten long ago, a collective secret; something unspeakable; something perpetrated upon the entire Human race and its Mother planet – as the moon snuffed the light of the Sun.
The Sun shone on beyond the moon as the Earth became a silent darkened stage. A break in the continuum of light reaching Earth’s crystalline heart as a coded reinforcement of her terminal decline was mirrored in the mortality of her inhabitants. The moon was rendered a dark and vast archetypal configuration, penetrating all bardos of consciousness to reach the depths of the spirit and imprint upon it its dark geometry, visually exposing the phenomenon of its power to shadow the light. As the Sun was once again revealed in its totality, the light returned and a roar of approval rose from the gathering as though they had witnessed a gladiatorial triumph. And yet no elation could wipe away the travesty that had occurred. A sense of futility and disappointment lay over the dispersing crowd as some smiled thinly: the occasional laugh could be heard, nervous and hollow.
The day-to-day domestic existence of Humanity is so filled with the endless tasks and distractions of survival that little thought is given to our symbiotic existence as fractals of the whole holographic cosmology. An eclipse returns us briefly to the awareness of and appreciation for the stupendous cosmic interference patterns which weave the infrastructures that dictate the paradigm matrix. It is the celestial proportions of the solar eclipse phenomenon that draws people away from their homes to travel great distances to witness the event and yet it is the daily rising of this numinous cosmic entity, gifting us the day, which is the true miracle.
Just days before writing the account of this eclipse I wrote a morning ceremony to be performed at the rising of the Sun. It is included in ‘The Template – A Holonomic Model of Transcendence’, as part of the Sacred Day Ceremony.
This sacred day
My communion with Earth’s Sun
brings my full conscious awareness into the moment,
honoring my physical being as a portal
through which divine Consciousness flows,
a stargate in time and space.
My every breath crystallizes my presence
as a co-ordinate in the divine immortal continuum,
cleansing my emotional body.
My mental body breaks free of its mortal confines
as I remember my quantum identity,
awakening my fearless self.
Love is my protection.
Imagine if this recognition, focus and gratitude were collectively offered to the sunrise each morning.
In India, the solar eclipse is accompanied by much chanting and ritual. This is usually interpreted as homage, when in fact the eclipse is recognized as a highly inauspicious event and the ‘holy names’ are chanted to reverse the negative influence as the Sun is darkened.
When we returned to our tent, we felt a particular exhaustion that heralded the need to integrate something we were not yet consciously able to assimilate. We lay down on the ground, falling instantly into deep sleep, and woke three hours later, both having had the experience of downloading coded information which, in the light of further data and experience, we would be able to retrieve and comprehend. As we left Cornwall for Glastonbury we felt rejuvenated, but did not yet realize that we were ‘pregnant’ with the coding for the next phase of the Template model of transcendence.
The solar eclipse had stimulated our inherent knowledge that the original Human, prior to its genetic modification, was coded to evolve through its symbiotic relationship with every point of light within the embrace of the solar system. It had not accomplished this by revealing a convergence within this unified symbiotic field in which every animated point of creation is a sensory organ of Source Consciousness, expanding and evolving through the absorption, translation and transmission of light, received as information from the Sun. Instead, the total eclipse of the Sun had visually divulged the breach within the divine immortal continuum, a breach that is illustrated by the eclipse, but is by no means restricted to the ecliptic event, for the moon is continually eclipsing the function of the Sun…electromagnetically. The breach within the immortal continuum is itself continuous and is creating a mortal paradigm. It would be several years before we would learn the full implications of this and its impact on Humanity, Earth and the solar system, and discover the circuitry within the Human electromagnetic field that would ultimately heal the breach.
In the meantime, the solar eclipse had set in motion the retrieval of information and codes relating to the original genetic blueprint embedded in the Human matrix. As the saying goes, ‘You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.’ It was the withholding of light that catapulted us into a receptive mode for the 13th Circuit, now registered within our cellular consciousness.
Juliet Carter, Worldbridger, Chapter 14.