In beginning at the end of me I saw twice as far . . .

 When I am old I will write a pearl.

The pearl will be 25,000 miles wide

Because it will circle the world

In one second.

It will be the smallest thing

That can do that.

Small as a pea under 20 mattresses.

That is why it will be a pearl.

Then the World will know

What it has lost and forgotten.

And I will be gone.

                

                                          A CIRCLE OF SWIFT SONGS

                                         FOREWORD

IN BEGINNING AT THE END OF ME I saw twice as far. But I was so used by now to coincidences happening almost continuously---synchronistic ‘chance’ seeings happening whenever I looked out at the World around me, and wherever I was in it, that in my stories here I take it completely for granted. It was only, today, some while after I had finished compiling this small book from my larger one, The Light Tree Journal that I suddenly realized that I needed to add some perspective to what was happening in my life in most of the stories. I saw I needed to stand back a little and explain my filling-up process which was constantly going on replacing all I lost of me through the flow of insights I was given.

   Simultaneous with the losing or the taking away was the filling-up---the rushing in---in the exchange of my dross for high energy delicious inspiration---life; which was more than doubly replacing all I ever gave up of me---hence, seeing twice as far. This instantaneous process had become so second nature to me that in my stories I didn’t often stop to give an identifying perspective on what was happening, which would have, perhaps, enabled the reader to more fully partake of the life going on in this---exchange.

   Like many people, I had become so connected to the source of all things that in the living world around me I was aware of what properties they had within them that would tell me about myself: in order to help me grow in light and understanding in my inner life with him. And this, that I might be one with him, who is love, forever. ‘For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; so that, the world, so imbued, had become my mirror---to show me myself, as I really was!---to bring light in my darkness---for I knew I was dark where light had not entered.  And the exchange was all entirely personal and had become delightful.

  Long ago I had discovered that not only was the living world made to provide us with the physical necessities of life---for our outer body---the air we breathe, and food and water, and warmth etc., but with the spiritual necessities of life, also---for our inner body---the dynamic ‘upside down’ provision of the natural world in its spiritual equivalent of ‘air,’ ‘food,’ ‘water’ and ‘warmth.’ …I had been given to understand that we were not complete with just the physical things given to us from the natural living world, we needed its inner gifts, too; which were always abundantly supplied.

   I enjoyed an extraordinary interaction with all created things, being as I was nothing. And while they would always tell me, only the inner truth, the truth which went against my natural earthly self: against my pride and ego---it was always entirely enchanting to me---because I loved the truth more than I loved myself.

   The stinging-points---of humiliation where I felt something to be against me, showing me up, challenging me toward change, became---the living-points; where I found life by light in action. And they became the most exciting places in the world for me! Only at these places could you see the way forwards on your intimate journey in light and life. They were the seeing-places where your life lit up in love and energy, so as you could see beyond. They were the gates to inner growth and greater meaning in your life in the ongoing revelation of your deeper purpose upon the earth: lifting you from the first, natural sphere of life, into the second, spiritual sphere---and from first sight, to second sight. …Intuiting the higher meaning in the unfolding world around you, that undid you a little every day, filling you with all you needed of happiness and love. It was all in quick turnings-again in inner cartwheels of joy, in a deep and secure knowing of your direction and purpose in him to whom we are intimately connected in glorious liberty: love.

   And now as I rewrite this FOREWORD, a confirming perspective of all this comes to me---that, somehow, when we walk through life, the way that is described throughout this book, that mystically and impossibly, we actually own the earth. …We had inherited it. It was incredible, but true. Not only had we been given ears to hear, and eyes to see, but we had been given to experience---live out---this truth within us: ‘blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.’

   My heart yearns that these simple inner-life stories of light, fill you with all joy and peace in believing---that you are known and understood---that all things belong to you---for you were loved unconditionally; and that not only heaven, but the whole earth is telling you that---had you a child’s eyes to see and ears to hear!

                                                                   *

The Pearl of Great Price . . .

     When I was young I was always writing ‘books.’

    ...The fact that they never exceeded a few pages or the first chapter never deterred me. I never gave up beginning, only finishing! But when I grew up I did eventually progress and now I have finished a few.

The Pearl

When I am old I will write a pearl.

The pearl will be 25,000 miles wide,

Because it will circle the world

In one second.

It will be the smallest thing

Which can do that –  

Small as a pea under 20 mattresses,

That is why it will be a pearl.

Then the world will know what it has

Forgotten,

And I will be gone.

                        – Age 7

Story: 12. ) Prophetic Books

from . . .  A BOOK IS LIKE A SACRED ISLE . . .

   

          Beginning---from a cache of---oyster light

          Dark hid---amongst the annoying seed

          Buried deep---but acquiring praise---inside

          Foremost---the unknown layers---covering love

          The outer shell is full of…ridges…hollows

          Bends…all from…swaying…to the harsh world

          Which it meets…with tangent candour

          Yet...shallow knowing…there…not faced with self

          Oyster holding---offending wisdom---inside out

          For of two---is---its portion; only one---finalizing

          This, the pages could whisper---only from their origin

          The pearl book tells its light---from whence it came 



           Prophetic Books

    There are books which speak to the outsides of us, and they are delightful; but some nebulous unknown part within us remains unsatisfied. Then there are other books, which speak to our insides, and they are a little disturbing for they seem to be reaching more hidden extremities; but ultimately they satisfy more for we sense we are met at our touchstone, the very place where we assay any incoming gold or silver from a prophetic voice.

   Books have breath. Although it is not always the best thing, one can rely on perceiving something of a book by its movie. While it is usually advisable to read the book, the movie can meet us at the touchstone and ignite any spark of life it engenders in us there . . . There must have been breath in its fabric; in its intrinsic message something dynamic, sensory and sensuous, for it to have been made into a movie; and that will come through, regardless of any cosmetic interpretations and work its especial aim in us for it has been written, twice. 

   I found gold and silver: glory and redemption: reward and grace, in one such film. For it confirmed, and set a seal upon all I already knew and had written; and it established within me a firmer conviction upon which to work. The experience of watching this film was, for me, like a child opening a gift and finding it was what she had always wanted.  

   Even so, I feel bad to be writing a sketch here about a book I haven’t read yet!  But there was that in it, which was, true; and therefore I needed only its essential essence, and its entheasm; which like a pin to a magnet was captured, in instant impact, via the film.

   Through avidly watching the movie of this book I gleaned all that I was needing, at the time, to give me the confidence and strength to continue writing my next ‘book;’ which, being even deeper than the former was perhaps more controversial and so its writer was needing, some sort of comfort! 

   The book I watched is titled The Celestine Prophecy, by James Redfield; (Grand Central Publishing; Hachette Book Group; New York, 1993.) I have bought it, now. It should arrive next week from America. And although I don’t quite agree with certain fundamental assumptions within its foundation it doesn't matter I am sure I will delight in it and find its lighted truths shining on little plants within me waiting to flower; releasing, too, partly hidden pearls ‘turned-around-sufferings’ into their predestined form in new writings.

   Not presuming to be anything, I am nothing, in no way am I aspiring to be instrumental; I write because I can do nothing else. If I didn’t, I think I’d die! I love books, and I believe in their power. Like I love owls, and believe they fly in the night. Coming through the dark winged things see and carry light in them: they are not afraid; they are rebels broken through love.                                         ‘Old’ books and ‘new’ books need each other; just as writers and readers need one another; one cannot exist without the other. We are not isolated islands, even if we think we are. Through the prophetic influence of our lives expressed in our words, books, and actions we are always helping one another, onward and forward, in one way or another, on mankind’s ceaseless journey through time and eternity. Wisdom and knowledge is built ‘line upon line, precept upon precept.’ And from one generation to the next light is growing, and expanding:  truth…ever living.

                           *

          Today’s fly…speaking

          Flies by tomorrow’s…saying

          ‘Who do you think you are?’

          Tomorrow’s…invisible

          Whispers not of acceptability

          It has none…yet

          But its voice…silent...had been

          Heard…

          Going under...

          Lifting spots…left…by today’s