What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
Richard Bach
Ψ
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
Richard Bach
Ψ
I wouldn’t marry God if he asked me.
Louise Berliawsky Nevelson (1899-1988)
Ψ
Michael’s Prayer
Prayer of Thy Healing Angels,
That is carried from God by Michael, Thy Archangel.
Pour out, Thy Healing Angels,
Thy Heavenly Host upon me,
And upon those that I love,
Let me feel the beam of Thy
Healing Angels upon me,
The light of Your Healing Hands.
I will let Thy Healing begin,
Whatever way God grants it,
Amen.
Lorna Byrne, Angels in my Hair
A healing prayer given to Lorna by Archangel Michael.
Δ
And upon those that I love.
∞
Saint or Siren?
I’m currently navigating the reality of relationships, while pondering transcendental experiences.
Almost a decade ago, I was fortunate enough to spend some time traveling the Basque region, a place that I still think about often. I was dating a surfer-lawyer at the time, who introduced me to various point breaks, one of which was the dramatic La Côte Basque. We stayed at a hotel right on the beach, set into the cliff, with sea-view rooms and faded 70’s decor. The rooms had a double set of patio doors, which puzzled me at first. The beach was always spotless because the tide would swallow it whole every night while bashing itself against the rocks, and then withdraw silently at daybreak, leaving a silky smooth plage.
The first couple nights, we slept with both sets of patio doors open, for air. The Atlantic was peaceful at first, lulling us into a false sense of security, yet by mid week the ocean was so loud I’d swear we were on a rock-crashing vessel. The sea sound was spectacular… double patio door mystery solved!
The thing is, I’m not entirely convinced that was the only reason for the added security. On the second night while sound asleep, the sea breeze whispering over our skin, I was awoken by a female singing-voice in my ear. Her song, while exquisitely beautiful, mesmerizing even, had strong undercurrents of melancholy, menace, and dare I say it… jealousy. She sung me into a semi-conscious wakefulness, whereby I could sense her presence hovering no more than a couple feet directly above me, while mirroring my horizontal position.
I woke up in a cold sweat.
On the third night, I experienced what probably still stands as one of my worst nightmares to this day, connected with the welfare of my family. This time I was inconsolable. At sunrise, I rang my folks to make sure that they were all ok. I’m not one for phone-calls at the best of times, so naturally they were curious as to why I felt compelled to contact them while on holiday. Having explained the haunting experiences, my brother pointed out that perhaps I had come into contact with a siren of the sea. I had no idea what he was talking about, and so he explained the legend of the sirens luring mariners to their death with their irresistible music. I was shaken, and yet utterly astonished.
My surfer-lawyer boyfriend had a very pure, highly profound connection with the ocean; that was his church, and my presence at the altar was clearly not welcomed by this particular spirit. Needless to say, the double set of patio doors stayed firmly closed from there on in, sending our own message that we were not to be disturbed.
It did the job.
I got to pondering on this decade-old experience. We all hear the music, in our own particular way. It may play intermittently, or perhaps it only sounds once through a single window of opportunity. But it is our life-blood, joy and passion, it sets our hearts on fire and it’s what makes us feel most alive, but how can we tell the difference between the songs that will ultimately elevate us, and those that send us crashing into the rocks? How do we tell the difference between the Saint and the Siren?
I suspect the Saint is the silent one.
V
∞
Ψ
p.s. the numerological date: 11.1.11
The Winter Blue
The winter blue stands unaware among the blades
stretching out like a thousand points of light
Shattered shards bearing souls
of wind chimes and promises,
hang like mirrors
from the walls of the sacred heart
They sing to the tune of the Siren
some long-forgotten sonnet
All those beautiful ideas
dripping desire like jasmine honey
They make shapes
on the ceiling of the mind
and vanish like the morning dew.
V
Ψ
Let Go To Grow
Strap lines, frankly speaking, get on my nerves. However, this one seems quite appropriate at this particular time, coined last night with a little divine inspiration, while messing around with The Book of Doors divination.
Around this time two years ago, a certain individual (who used to drive me up the wall and across the ceiling in a head-twisting kind of way) sat me down post a much testosterone-fuelled board meeting and said ‘Ves, this is the year you learn to let go’. If it wasn’t for the fact that his words reverberated through me like an almighty gong, I would have decked him right there. But I didn’t. Why? Because he was extremely and annoyingly… right. Damn it.
Ausar, a Neter of the Egyptian dead, while also being the god of regenerative power on account of his connection with Phi (the golden proportion), is associated with Saturn’s cycle of death and transformation. Have you ever thought about what you would take with you on your journey to the other side, if you could? Well, I highly recommend this particular thought-express. I was gently guided through this process many years ago during my first Reiki initiation, and I discovered on the second round of meditation, that the journey was a heck of a lot easier without clinging to stuff that weighs us down unnecessarily.
Our current reality is one of 3-D, or at least, that’s our perception. Ours is the life of matter, albeit moving into aether, we are still getting attached to stuff… photos, cars, even people. Most definitely people. Brass tacks, it all boils down to attachment, and often, our attachments are formed for not entirely kosher reasons; like fear of change. The trick is to recognise it. Wouldn’t life be a lot simpler if we choose according to that which contributes to our greater sense of genuine joy, rather than need, or fear?
The snake sheds it’s skin, highly symbolic of regenerative power. We experience a mini-death to rise like the phoenix from the ashes, a shinier, better, stronger version of ourselves, a resurrection if you will. Our experiences meld with our DNA, our Akash, and this is the only luggage we truly require on this particular mind-bending voyage.
I’ve been letting go of stuff all my life, while acquiring new stuff… like we all do, every day of our lives. However, today, I let go of something very close to my heart for one reason alone, because I’ve finally figured out that I deserve better.
And so do you.
V
Φ
Prayer is extremely powerful: when we pray, we don’t pray alone, our guardian angel always prays with us and so do any other angels that may be with us at the time. Even loved ones who are already in Heaven join with us when we pray… When a prayer comes from the depths of our being it is incredibly powerful…Prayer is especially powerful when a group of people pray together in the same place…or if people from all over the world pray for something specific at the same time. Such prayer causes a tremendous intensification of spiritual power.
Lorna Byrne, Angels In My Hair
Tern of the Stamp
When it comes to esoteric and spiritual information, I have a voracious appetite, as my friends will testify. One particular book (in two parts) arrived on my path late last year, packed with everything from sacred geometry to ancient Egyptian mysteries, and delivered in such a way as one does when one has loads to say and can’t get it out quick enough.
I made it through the first book, absorbing what I felt to be of value to me, while making a commitment to finish the series. I’m pretty open-minded, you kind of have to be when casting your net a little further than the eye can see, but even my elasticated limits of esoterica were being stretched to breaking-point by this particular collection of ideas.
I was exasperated!
And I made it known… I slammed shut the second book and addressed the guys behind the curtain in no uncertain terms;
‘give me a break! why am I reading this? what could this possibly bring to my life? what are you trying to tell me? is this about resurrection, or ascension, or what? why are you making me read this? what relevance? i don’t understand!!! aarrrrhhhggggg!’
Needless to say, the book stayed closed for the night and I went to sleep.
My consciousness re-surfaced the following Saturday morning, by dragging my arse to Islington, still half-asleep. It was a beautiful crisp winter’s day, not a cloud in the sky and the air was peaceful and warm. I had some time on my hands and decided to take a wander through the antique market stalls. After my senses received their fix of bric-a-brac colour, I stopped at the edge of a stall selling old stamps, and pondered ‘where to next’?
A lady with a pushchair hailed the stamp man ‘think this may be one of yours!’ she hollered, pointing to my feet, then whizzing off like Michael Schumacher. I looked down to see a stamp not more than my own shoe size away, and nodded at the stamp man to confirm that, yes, there was definitely something stamp-like on the ground. Stamp man shuffled over as I reached down to pick it up, and it was in this magical moment of handing over the renegade bit of postage that my brain engaged with the image, and realization struck like love at first sight; here was an image of a white bird soaring above the ocean, and the word Ascension, written below it.
‘That’s a beautiful stamp’, I said, ‘very beautiful actually’, as my brain caught up with the significance of the moment, my jaw moving up and down like some out-of-control puppet. If it were a cartoon, I’d be rubbing my eyes with wonder. Stamp man handed the paper-flake back to me, ‘keep it… it’s yours, Happy Christmas!’
Punch-drunk, I walked to S&M for breakfast, clutching this little miracle in my hand, my whole world of knowledge, belief and perception having been turned over in the most magnificent way.

Of all the creatures we share our world with, the bird holds special significance for me because it represents freedom, particularly spiritual, as does the ocean. The bird on the stamp is a Fairy Tern, or manu-o-Ku (Honolulu), Hawaii’s official bird since 2007. The significance of this part of the world will not go unnoticed to those who share an affinity for the legends of Lemuria.
Make of it what you will, luck, coincidence, right place right time, synchronicity, fairies, angels, ancestors, spirit guides, or Great Spirit, our labels are of little consequence. The only thing that matters is whether we are prepared to be open-minded enough to consider other possibilities that extend beyond our human senses, possibilities that stretch us to consider that perhaps we are more than we know.
V
∞
Ψ
Language Of Light
In my moments of forgetfulness,
You remind me.
A tap on the knee
for a synchronous exchange
And I look up to check
and yes, there You are
…of course.
Your language of light illuminates
the last day of the moon
and the reason why I came.
Paul’s is bustling again.
Gabriel shuffles in and I marvel
at the elegance of it all.
And you play with me
like the cosmic comedian You are,
eye to Eye contact
with the geometric Wonder
and my jaw drops in awe
and yes, there You are
…of course.
I feel you’re wings of transformation.
V
∞
Ψ
11:11 this is your wake-up call
My mobile phone regularly draws my attention at 11:11am. Or a phone call ends at exactly 11:11. I come home from my run to be met with 11:11 winking at me from the bedroom alarm clock. From early 2007, the 11:11 would stop me in my tracks. Now, this numerical shadow makes me smile for two reasons, (1) thoughts of Spirit presence, (2) because I think of everyone else who in this precise moment acknowledges the same connection in time.
But what is this connection? What does repeatedly seeing 11:11 really mean? Is this some random event, or does 11:11 have greater significance?
I did the same thing that many others appear to be doing, I checked out 11:11 in Wikipedia (self-confessed Wiki-addict), Googled it, and YouTubed it. Well, how much time have you got? It became clear that this is somewhat of a phenomenon. But like all public spaces, finding truth is like looking for a needle in the world’s haystack; fun at first, but then it really starts to get up your nose. It would appear that on the subject of 11:11, public media divides predictably into two camps; inspiration v conspiracy… or for the basic translation; good v bad. But of course! Human duality raises it’s potato-head to prove yet again, we have some way to go before we transcend 3D.
Were it not for the fact that I continue to experience this phenomenon, I probably wouldn’t give it much attention. It’s also worth pointing out that other number sequences are also making an entrance, notably 444. One particular author shuns the appearance of any other number sequences bar 11:11, however, I suspect that this subject may be somewhat more complex. One only need glance at the Jewish practice of Gematria in Hebrew to understand that numbers not only possess geometric significance, but are also considered sacred.
In relation to particular words in the Bible, theologian and Biblical scholar E.W.Bullinger writes in his book Number In Scripture;
“…the significance of the word corresponds with the significance of the number of the times it occurs… securing a uniformity in results which would be absolutely impossible in a work written separately by different writers.”
This statement is interesting in and of itself; we either have a divine numerological system on our hands, of which we seem to understand very little, or we’re being swindled by religions that appear to be extraordinarily coordinated, and have more time on their hands than sense.
I’m not big on conspiracy theories, primarily because they are fear-based, and thereby highlighting their ultimate, and often not-so-subtle raison d’être. Breaking the cycle of fear within human consciousness is paramount, and there is but one antidote: Love, capitol L. This is no pastel-coloured nursery rhyme, I point to the energy of our existence, our uni-verse, one-song, less Pam Ayres, more Jimi Hendrix.
Could it be that we are already on the path of breaking the chain of human suffering? Was the 1987 Harmonic Convergence a turning point for us as a race? Are we experiencing a shift in the Earth’s energy? Is human consciousness truly awakening? Is the 11:11 connected, and if so, how?
I love these questions. They signal hope, and the prospect of much-needed change for our planet. Vlog is dedicated to exploring these and many other questions about the nature of our existence. But hey, don’t take my word for it, that would be missing the entire point of waking up. Because you are you know… or do you believe you’re reading this by accident? It’s time to get curious, go find out what this means to you.
This is your wake-up call.
V
∞
I am the Supreme Being. That is, the Supreme, comma, being. I am not the result of a process; I am The Process Itself. I am the Creator, and I am The Process by which I am created… God is an event. You have called that event life. Life is a Process.
Neale Donald Walsch, Conversations With God, Book 3
“evolution” is just another word for “movement toward truth”.
Neale Donald Walsch, Coversations With God, Book 3
There may be fear in the air, but don’t put it in your heart. Be afraid of your desire and its fancies, but never of actual events.
Rumi, Advice To The Drunk At Heart
Just Do It
Who can find a trace of you?
There isn’t even a bit of dust from your track.
Who could find your home?
You have no home.
How can I praise you?
What can I say about you?
Foam is the only form in the sea of meaning.
A great, unseen town
lies just behind that curtain.
Our world is nothing compared to that.
Don’t lower yourself.
Don’t knock on every door.
You yourself are what you are looking for.
O heart, raise your tent up to the sky.
Don’t say, “I can’t.”
Sure you can. Just do it.
Rumi
Editors note: think the title could catch on, might try selling some trainers with it.