Book: Redemption - Part XXXIII - Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Growing Up

September 2001

An email from Liz told me she had moved on to another online relationship, but this one came about in a most unusual way. In the darkness of depression, she visited her old school’s website in an attempt to recapture the blissful days of her youth. On noticing postings from past students she decided to add a comment of her own. The next day she received a reply from a man named Andrew who asked for more information about her because he didn’t recall her, even though they were supposed to be in the same class. It turned out that he started shortly after she left to attend another school. She asked me to do some readings about him because they talked of meeting, despite the fact that he lived on the other side of the country. My readings showed a karmic bond, a true soul connection.

On Father’s Day, Che called in but spent most of his time whinging about Jenny. He was struggling to cope with her domineering personality. If he really looked at her he would realise it was just phony bravado, although I did understand where he was coming from. When she got fired up it was a case of “Look out world!” He said he had been talking to Gregg when, for reasons she never made clear, she became so enraged she smashed some glasses. Whatever karma they had to settle, I hoped it would happen without the loss of blood or broken bones.

On Monday, I tried my hand at ‘automatic” drawings but wasn’t having much success. At 11am, Gladys rang. As we talked, I absent-mindedly picked up the pencil and started drawing. As it was Gladys I was talking to I assumed the drawing was for her. I gave it to her the next day. Tamara rang on Monday night with some extraordinary news. On the previous Friday, a co-worker saw a book in her bag and sparked up a conversation about “coincidences”. The book was The Celestine Prophesy by James Redfield. One thing led to another and she told the girl why she left her previous job. Tamara then learned the woman who rang her moments after she was fired just happened to be a good friend of the schoolboy’s family! The girl advised Tamara to tell the woman everything she had just told her. She did, and was assured the lad’s message would be delivered to his grieving family. She was happy with her new job, especially as her supervisor mentioned how impressed she was with her flair for business at a recent meeting.

The following Thursday I felt like a cat on a hot tin roof. I was on edge the whole day and didn’t know why. It was as if I was expecting something to happen, but not having a clue as to what. My readings were not helping either as all they forecast was change and the Blank card was an all too common visitor. There seemed to be changes for so many people. On Friday night, Tamara and I went to Kedron-Wavell RSL for a psychic development workshop with Kerrie, one of the readers at Zen Gallery. I had previously attended another of her workshops in the same venue. That was when I saw the Union officer for the first time. After a guided meditation, we paired with people we didn’t know to do psychometry, something I had never been successful at, probably because of Andrew Fitzherbert. I saw things symbolically, but the person understood the message. We swapped partners, and again my symbolic message was received loud and clear. Aura readings were next on the agenda, followed by chakra healing. It was a wonderful night, but on Saturday, I woke feeling restless again. At Chermside, I collected more enlargements of my cupboard photos and stopped into Zen Gallery to see if Julie and Aaron were working.  Julie was. She and her co-worker, Katrina bought copies of Isis, Excalibur and Circle of Life, which is what I called the Celtic knot and sun rays. Perhaps I was ready take a stall at the markets.

My painting featuring the Lady of the Lake. I called it Excalibur

On Sunday, I returned to Kedron Wavell RSL, but this time for a Jason McDonald seminar. I was disappointed to find him imitating American medium, John Edward, from the TV show Crossing Over, instead of standing on his own merits. During a question and answer session I told him I was at a crossroads and uncertain of which way to go. I asked if he could help me. His abrupt answer shocked me. “Have you left your husband yet? That’s why you’re at a crossroads. Make the move. Continue with your spiritual and healing work. Are you doing so now? No. Not really. Well, why not?” With that he moved on to the next person. My heart was racing. I could barely breathe. I had received much the same message on Friday night from one of my psychometry partners. But I also remembered what other readers warned about leaving Steve. Was that why I felt the way I did? Did I know that wasn’t the answer, that doing so would only incur more karma? When he finished he told us we could get a reading with one of his students if we wished. The person who read for me had this to say: “A better, smoother, calmer life lies ahead if you can make the move. You will be free. Your art will flow. Money will be tight for a while, but your son will look after you. Perhaps you could stay at his place. Your husband won’t move forward until you do. He uses your strength because he is fearful of his own inadequacies. He needs to use his own psychic abilities and develop them, but he is not. Nor will he until you leave.”

Her name was Raywen. Tamara was so impressed with her she decided she was the one to teach her Reiki. She also told Julie that if ever Mark wanted to hire another reader, Raywen was it. I couldn’t say I hadn’t been warned. During many a heart-to-heart chat with Petula the very same subject came up. There seemed to be no getting around it. I had to go.

I woke on Monday feeling lost, sad, and more distressed than I could remember feeling in a very long time. I rang Kristen and told her everything. Steve was a good man, I knew that, but too much damage had been done. I was too sensitive to take much more of his mental and emotional abuse. I was sick of feeling controlled, and I was sick of double standards. He’d tell me to make decisions and be strong, but whenever I did he found fault, which only served to bring me down and keep me dependent on him. It was a vicious cycle that had to stop. But something else was afoot that day. The car insurance renewal notice came, something that normally would have him going on about tightening our belts, but not that day. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched me, waiting. What’s he waiting for? He knows something is up.

On Tuesday, I went to Zen Gallery to show Julie some more prints but she wasn’t there. Aaron was. He liked them, but suggested postcards or bookmarks. He was such a gentle soul, a very old soul, perhaps even an earth angel, and I found myself confiding in him. He was wonderfully supportive. He said things happen for a reason and while we may not know what those reasons are, if we have faith and trust, we will be safe. I allowed him to hug me while I sobbed away. He gave me a miracles happen bumper sticker and I left feeling calm. I had liked Aaron since I met him, and I’ll never forget what he said we were talking about Jason one day: “Jason’s fine, as long as he checks his ego at the door.”

As I walked home through the park, I stopped to ring Che. He said he would come straight over. I told him I didn’t want him leaving work, but he wouldn’t hear of it. When he arrived, we stood huddled together in the park. As he held me I sobbed piteously. He said he knew this would happen and that was why he delayed leaving home.  We were both crying by then. When I felt better I asked him how his relationship was. It wasn’t going well at all. Jenny seemed to resent any time he spent away from her. She was smothering him. In that moment I knew why Raywen mentioned Che instead of my girls. We had to help each other, but I had to sort myself out before I could help him.

On Tuesday September 11^th 2001, all my problems paled into insignificance when I saw the horror being played out on television. Two hijacked planes deliberately flew into New York City’s Twin Towers, bringing them down amid secondary towers of billowing smoke and ash. Is this what Nostradamus predicted? Is this the rout of mankind? I remembered thinking that a decade earlier at the onset of the first Gulf War. What karma must have been in place that allowed a father and son to be at the helm at two such crucial moments in history? Thousands of people were annihilated. Dazed and shocked ash-covered survivors roamed the streets like extras in a Mad Max movie. It was beyond imagination. A third hijacked plane flew into the Pentagon and a fourth crashed into countryside when its brave passengers fought back. It was said that plane was on its way to the White House. Two paths were open to the world. Rush blindly into the Apocalypse, or trust in our “Better Angels” and embrace the Age of Aquarius. We have it in our own hands to heal the wounds of the world, so Nostradamus said. It is our choice.

People like James Twyman, with his Million Prayer March, were trying to do just that. When I told Tamara about the email being forwarded to lightworkers worldwide she asked me to forward it to her work email address so she could send it out from there. When I stopped into Zen Gallery to give Julie a copy of it I got her email address so she could send it out to people on the database. Whilst there, she asked me if I would like to go with her on Sunday to the Self-Realization Fellowship at Brookfield. On Friday, I had a long talk with Leigh, Che and Kristen. My neighbour was very worried about her son as he was a fighter pilot in the Air Force. Heather was worried about her son for much the same reason. Robert wasn’t a pilot, but he serviced the F111s. Dana said she was too afraid to fly now, not that many people were flying anywhere, especially in America. Che offered to give Steve enough money so he could go away by himself and sort himself out. I thanked him, but I didn’t think it would do much good. I told him I hoped to talk with Steve that night and let him know where we go from there.

More unwelcome news came on Friday September 14^th with the news of Ansett’s collapse. The whole world seems to have gone mad. Sixteen thousand jobs gone in the twinkling of an eye! That would only add to the sense of pain and despair people felt. Then I remembered the readings and warnings for Andrea’s husband, even Petula’s dream. It was the end of an era. One more thing happened that day. I found a new line on my palm. It wasn’t there a week before. Tamara said it was my fate line.

I couldn’t seem to talk with Steve on Friday night so I went to bed asking Spirit to provide the opportunity. They did. We went to Morgan’s at Scarborough and then to nearby parkland to eat our fish and chips. Somehow, the words came, flowing easily. He knew. He had known all week. He was just waiting for me to say something. He was very kind, very gentle. He hugged me and we both cried. It was not what I expected at all. He offered to move out of the bedroom, but said with so much debt he couldn’t afford to live elsewhere. I told him I would see someone at Centrelink when I lodged his dole form. When we got home, I rang Che to put his mind at ease, and then I told the girls. Kristen said she could see, with her mind’s eye, a monk-like figure standing behind me as we spoke. She said he looked like The Hermit of the Tarot. She said she then saw my parents, Uncle Jack, and other family members in spirit standing around me. I couldn’t understand why Jack had to be there, unless it was some sort of penance. I then rang Petula. She said she will take me to Shorncliffe for a prayer vigil for peace on Monday afternoon.

The next day was so unlike any other Sunday. As Steve and I talked, we both knew this was necessary, and yet we were both unsure as to where we would go from there. There was no blame. It was a natural progression. We had grown apart. Who knows, I said, our paths may converge again. Julie arrived and I went to the Self-Realization Fellowship. On the way through she stopped to pick up her friend, Shelley, at Wavell Heights. The moment I saw her I knew I had seen her before.

The temple was the most amazing place I had ever been to. The meditation lasted an hour and was in absolute silence. On the stage framed prints of all the great religious leaders stood on easels. Beyond, was a shop in which one could purchase smaller copies of the same pictures, or anything else one desired from the available range. The feeling I experienced during the meditation was beyond description. I came away with a sense of no judgement and genuine spiritual bliss. I also came away with an answer. During the meditation I saw myself as The Fool of the Tarot, standing at the edge of a cliff. I then saw myself step off the cliff. That was when I knew all would be well. A huge hand, I will call the Hand of God, appeared from nowhere and I simply stepped onto his fingers and into the palm of his hand.

On Monday, Petula and I went to a Full Moon-Peace ceremony at Shorncliffe and met Julie and Shelley there. While we waited for others to arrive, Shelley told me that when I got out of the car on Sunday and walked up my front steps a nun was walking behind me. She said she knew the nun was extremely spiritual. She glowed with the most awesome golden light. I knew immediately who she was, but I couldn’t recall the town in Spain she was associated with. Shelley was thrilled I knew that much and was even more excited when I told her I was named after her. When the ceremony started, there was a sense of the natural world I had never sensed before. I knew Petula would be in her element with her Celtic background. Afterwards, she asked me if I felt warm. It was actually a cold night, but I did. She said that was the spirits. They were all around us in a circle, close together to keep us warm and safe as we each said our names and told of our feelings about the U.S. tragedy. We can change the world! We must change the world!

When I got home Steve said Leigh had rung so I called her back. She told me she and Andrea were talking at work about the Ansett crisis and she wanted to know if I could come over the next day for a chat. I was surprised to find several women there because I wasn't supposed to be reading. It was to be a simple morning tea. I did read for one lady, however, because she really needed it, and for the next few hours we talked about many things. Andrea told me she was grateful for the warnings given her and her husband. After the second, he started listening. The subject soon moved to Tamara's recent experience and with that, a lady named Margaret said she knew the family very well and would pass on the lad's message to ensure it got through. When they left Leigh took me to Glenys’ place because she couldn’t leave the house. She certainly needed a reading and when it was over she asked if I would do a painting for her. She showed me the old galvanised washtub she wanted it done in and photos of a farm. They were all so different. There were aerial shots, close-up shots, and even one taken lovingly through a cast iron gate. I asked her to tell me what she wanted, exactly, but she said I would know. Why does Glenys do this to me? I tried going about it a different way but had no luck. Glenys simply refused to tell me what she wanted. I would know, she said. The woman was out to get me!

At the library on Wednesday, I got an email from Liz. She said she was positive Steve and I would not break up but would just take a breather. She suggested I stay with my brother for a few weeks and see how I feel then. It was good advice. So that night, I had a long chat with Peter. I then rang Che and asked him to look into sleeper cabins for me on the Sunlander. On Thursday, Tamara rang to say she may have work in the Nundah or Valley offices as there is a lot of interest in her, according to her supervisors. Steve and I were getting on better than we had in years. We were friends again.

On Friday September 21^st, Gladys called to tell me no one in her family claimed to know the girl I drew. After a while she said it wasn’t Rebecca.  I said “Okay.” Then she said it again, and again I said “Okay”. Then she said, “No, it’s not Becky.” With that I nearly fell off my chair and screamed at poor Gladys. “It’s not for you! It’s for Petula! It’s Becky! Her Becky!” Petula wasn’t convinced. She didn’t have the glasses. She didn’t have the beret. Her hair was not so messy. However, she did think it might be a relative of Mark’s so she took the drawing. But I knew it was Becky. That was why Gladys kept saying what she said. Why was Becky hanging around? Is Petula in trouble? Well, she’s always in trouble. Then I remembered what her sister-in-law said when reading her aura. She’s going to have a baby and it’s going to be Becky reincarnated!

On Saturday, Steve moved into the spare room, sleeping on a rickety old folding bed that had seen better days. At the library, Liz sent me her reader friend’s email address, suggesting I contact her regarding my situation with Steve. Despite everything, we were actually getting along better than we had in a very long time. He was extremely supportive, especially when it came to Glenys’ painting. He even came up with a perfect substitute easel. An old cupboard I had bought from a co-worked when still working at the aged care facility proved the perfect solution. With the top drawer open, and the washtub resting in the mirror recess, it was stable and the correct angle. I only had one problem. I would have to take it with me when I went to Peter’s as there was no way I would have it finished beforehand. As it turned out, I did get it finished for not even Che could get me a ticket on the Sunlander. With Ansett out of the equation, every train and bus seat going anywhere was fully booked.

On Sunday, I went to the Self-Realization Fellowship with Shelley as Julie wasn’t well. In the meditation I ‘saw’ a lake I had seen in other meditations. This time I realised the woman in the boat was me. The lake was calm, but there was a lot of mist preventing me from seeing very much. But I could see enough to know I was going in the right direction. Shelley told me she got a message during her meditation that she had to buy me a picture and asked if I wanted Jesus or Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda, founder the Self-Realization Fellowship. She said of all the pictures available those were my only ‘allowed’ choices. I opted for Jesus simply because I felt more of a connection to him than the Yogi.

When we got home I showed Shelley my cupboard. She loved Excalibur but was enthralled by Isis’ eyes. She said they followed her as she walked around the room. While we talked, I discovered she used to work in the same aged care facility as me, in the neighbouring house as a nurse, which would explain why she looked so familiar. After a few readings, she said she would come to Shontara’s past life workshop, being held at Petula’s place the following Sunday. She was amazed to hear me tell of translating the hieroglyphs. I got a name that may have sounded like the one Petula got that day we sat down to look at auras. Vowels were not used in the Egyptian language, and their pronunciation must have been different to the literal translations. I was also able to tell her about the nun she saw. At the library during the week I got out a map of Spain and methodically ran my finger over every town starting with the letter “A” until I found the right one, knowing I would know it when I saw it. Theresa of Avila! She was an extremely spiritual woman, one I would like to learn a lot more about when I had the time.

On Monday afternoon, Che rang to tell me he had booked my ticket north, but I won’t be going until October 23^rd. The next day he dropped over a suitcase he borrowed. Before he left I asked if Jen was pregnant. “No way!” was his horrified response. They had an agreement on that, he said. Why did I ask? Did I know something he didn’t? I didn’t know anything. It was just a feeling I couldn’t shake. Another grandchild was coming. Kristen swore she would never go back for seconds, and she wouldn’t anyhow if not in a stable relationship. Tamara was too career-focused so that left Che.

On Wednesday, Petula showed me her new fairy cards (Healing with the Fairies). They were truly beautiful. When I asked her where she got them she said they were right under the angel ones (Healing with the Angels) in the display in the middle of the store. Both sets were by Doreen Virtue. When Kristen backed up Petula I realised I was not meant to get them as Spirit knew I would prefer the artwork in them. I had to admit, the angel ones were truly inspiring and a comfort to my soul. On the morning of the following Saturday, a knocking sound woke me from a horrible dream about Petula being murdered by a hideous man. It was Steve knocking at the door. He said he knew I needed comforting. I have had some terrible dreams, but that was one of the worst. When I spoke to Petula I found her in a terrible state. She was back to the cycle of tears and torment over a man. I wondered if that’s what I was picking up on. If I was, Mark was very bad news.

Later in the day Che rang. He was terribly upset because Dzintra managed to get his phone number and Jenny answered her call. She was ropable. “We’re supposed to have a silent number. How did that bitch get your number?” I told him I would ring Information and see what happened. I rang him back immediately to tell him to take it up with Telstra because I had no trouble getting his number. Perhaps because of Che, or perhaps because of Petula and the dream, but that night, Steve and I had our longest, deepest, most honest talk ever. As a result, I made the decision to stay, but to be my own person. He moved back into the bedroom, although I was still going to Peter’s. We needed to put some distance between us.

On the last day in September, Petula had a full house with Shontara’s past life workshop. What I saw on the screen was fire; a fire that was out of control; a fire that was in a castle. I watched myself running in blind panic to escape. I could hear sounds. Someone was trapped. I should go back. I wavered, but then I made the decision to get out instead. Who did I leave behind? It was a man. I could see him silhouetted in a window with flames behind him. There was something evil about him. I ran out onto the drawbridge. I was almost free, almost safe when I found myself surrounded by armour-clad soldiers on horseback. In the next instant, I saw the Union officer again, but just briefly. Seconds later, I saw rolling green hills. It was quiet and peaceful. It was so beautiful. I was free. I was safe. In the next instant, I saw hordes of Mongol warriors riding towards me. I was trapped. There was no where for me to run. When Shontara's voice called me out and back to the room, I thought back to that day the methylated spirit stove burst into flames and how I ran out in a blind panic, leaving Kristen in her high chair. I finally understood why the fear was so palpable.

The day also lead to another revelation: Any one of the people present could have handled that workshop better. Shontara was fine with a smaller group, but with a larger group she dithered too much, no professionalism, no polish. Tamara was right when she said she would fail if she took her workshops to Melbourne as she planned. However, everyone got a lot out of the day and Petula and Kristen’s friend, Deborah, felt an instant connection. Petula wants to work with troubled teenagers – Deborah does. Deborah’s father runs car racing tracks in Lismore – Mark has family in Lismore, and is a fanatic of the race track.

Book: Redemption - Part XXXII - Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

The Plot Thickens

July to August 2001

On Tuesday July 3^rd, a questionnaire and explanatory note arrived in the mail from a woman called Shontara. She told me she had my name and address because I had entered a competition she was running in Insight magazine. Her name meant nothing to me, but as I had entered several competitions in the magazine over the years I didn’t find it unusual. One of the questions concerned my willingness to host a past life workshop in my home. I ticked the ‘Yes’ box on that. After completing the questionnaire, I felt a strong urge to write her a letter telling about Jason and Gaele, people I would always link with Insight magazine, and the impact they had had on my life. I may have first seen Jason at the Brisbane Spiritualist Church, but it was his advertisement in the magazine that took me to his Windsor workshop in 1998. I also felt I had to tell her about Peter Harvoe. Before I finished writing, Tamara rang to say her job had been extended until the end of the month, and possibly longer. It was good to have a job again, she said, but this time she would get in front with her rent lest the lean times return. Another lesson learned.

The next day, I walked to the post office and stopped in at Lifeline to show Gladys photos of my cupboard and have a chat. The new manageress, Lyn, was happy to see me. She even told me she had “made budget” for the first time in a year and a half. On Thursday, Petula called to say she’s going to Women’s Legal Services on Friday to have them check a letter she’d written Neville. Would I come with her? I agreed. An hour later, Shontara called. She must have checked the Refidex the moment she got my letter because she knew where I lived in relation to the railway station. During the two hours we talked I learned she not only knew Peter Harvoe, she was able to tell me why he never called back: My enrolling in the art class would stifle my creative flow to his way of thinking. He was a stickler for that sort of thing, she said. When I told her what I learned from the cupboard paintings, she said she would send me a set of Egyptian Tarot cards she no longer used. She bought them years earlier because she “loved Egyptian stuff” but couldn’t get into them. She believed the true owner was out there somewhere, so every time she spoke to someone with a love of things Egyptian, she gave them the cards. “If they are not for you, pass them on. They will eventually find their rightful owner.”

At Women’s Legal Services we learned Petula’s letter to Neville would have to be completely rewritten. There was nothing we could do but leave it with them. But as time was of the essence, the woman she spoke to said she would email it to me as an attachment by Wednesday and call Petula on Thursday to go over it with her. She was going to scrape in by the seat of her pants. The next day I bought the latest issue of Insight and found an article written by Shontara. I took that as an omen and started asking people if they would like to attend a past life workshop with her at my place with entry by donation only. I was not short of takers.

At the library on Monday, Dana gave me a book on Tarot she bought for me on sale and told me a lady was setting up a Tarot display as we spoke. It would remain at the library for most of the month. When I got home I found Shontara’s cards in the mailbox. The Major Arcana featured gods and goddesses of the Egyptian pantheon, while the Minor Arcana, although similar to a degree to the four suits of the standard Tarot deck, was still very different. No instruction book accompanied the deck. When I next spoke to Shontara she told me they never came with a book and suggested I sit with each card in turn and see what I get. I told her I had done that. They hurt my third eye. The pain must have been what Steve experienced when he said his sinuses were playing up. It was an unusual pain, and for me, who was not used to having headaches of any description, an uncomfortable one.

The following day I spent several minutes, on and off throughout the morning with them. The oddest thing was with each card I never once saw anything Egyptian. In one, I saw a racing car and its driver, in another, rolling green hills. I also saw a cruise liner, a train, and an airplane. I could only hold each card to my third eye for a few seconds before the dull, throbbing pain distracted me. The next day I blindfolded myself and started again. This time some cards gave me a similar sensation to when I held crystals that resonated with me. Others gave me goosebumps all over my body, right up onto my scalp. Something was clearly going on. Shontara called me in the afternoon to arrange the day of the workshop. We decided on Sunday July 22^nd. She would send me everything I would need, including invitations.

On Wednesday, mere seconds after I printed off Petula’s amended letter from Women’s Legal Services, the entire library computer system crashed. With people yelling and swearing, and library staff racing every which way, I thanked the angels on my way out. That afternoon, Che stopped in to tell me he lodged an application for a house at Geebung, just up the road. Before he left he took some invitations for Jen and Karen, Kerry’s girlfriend. He said Jenny won’t want to come but he will “encourage” her because he feels it will do her a lot of good. Coming from my son, that was a revelation. She always seemed happy to talk to me about what I do. Perhaps, I decided, she was just being polite. Five of them would be moving into the large brick house at the top of the hill if they get it – Che, Jen, Gregg, Kerry, and Karen. Gregg and Kerry had been Che’s mates since they were good little boys in the first grade. The older they got the more I worried about what they were up to. But all’s well that ends well. However, I did wonder how it would go with Jen and Karen. They could not stand the sight of each other.

On Saturday, I emailed Jen’s mother to see if I could learn why she would be so averse to attending the workshop. She suggested I ask her and see what she says. I did. “Me? Afraid? No….I’m not afraid…..I just have enough problems in this life without borrowing from the past! Anyhow, Karen’s going…I don’t like Karen. If I went, I’d like to participate, but Karen’s…..Anyhow, it opens up too many wounds. I did all this with Mum. No. Sorry.” Wow, I thought. What a convoluted excuse. I understood Jen did have a lot on her plate, more than most people should have to deal with in one lifetime, and she was still so young. She presented as a fiery Leo, but she hid behind Leo’s mane. The true Jen was a hurt little kitten. On Monday, Che told me they didn’t get the house. I could hear the disappointment in his voice, but they had to be realistic. Five young people are unlikely to be considered acceptable tenants for a posh house in a posh street of Geebung Heights. But then, Che always did have an eye for the good life.

The following Wednesday, Che called to tell me they found a house. He was still in shock for the two storey dwelling had an internal staircase, double lock-up garage, and above all, looked “expensive”. It came about in the most unlikely way. Jen had been at the real estate agency the day before and was ignored by the receptionist. Still, she remained polite and didn’t make a scene. A few minutes later an older lady entered and the receptionist gave her her complete attention. The woman motioned to Jen, saying she was there first but the receptionist said she could wait. That was too much for Jen and she walked out, closely followed by the woman, who asked if she was alright when she saw her in tears. Jen explained how hard it was to get a place and that they were good people who deserved a chance. By then, there would only be three of them: Jen, Che and Gregg. The woman told her she and her husband had a house at Banyo. In fact, she had gone to the agency to have it listed. If Jen and the others could stop in that evening they could discuss it. It was a done deal when the husband saw Che’s QR shirt for the man was a railway buff of long standing. He even used an old luggage rack as a shelf.

Two hours later, Che called back. Reality was starting to set in. Tamara rang shortly afterwards to tell me she has an interview the following Tuesday for a permanent AO2 position at Queensland Health. On Thursday, Che rang again. He thought leaving home would be so easy. He was too young to pay much attention to when Kristen left, and Tamara, well, Tamara was Tamara. She couldn’t wait to forge her own way in the world. Even Steve felt the finality of Che leaving home and told him if it didn’t work out he could come back. He never said that to the girls.

On Friday, I got a call from my old school friend, Lyn. Ann passed away on Wednesday. Her funeral notice was in the paper. I rang Leigh and Sharyn. It must have been a hard call for Lyn, then battling breast cancer for the second time, to make. She learned of its return when she had her five year check. Five years: The magic number. She had received the all-clear every year in between. She remained positive, though, despite her younger sister succumbing to the disease some years earlier. Elaine was a beautiful looking girl, and the prime reason the two Peters often found themselves in trouble with Aunty Marie. The Newmarket street they lived in was divided, with each side rather narrow. Lyn lived on the high side while the old Casey house was on the lower side. A three metre wall separated the two. In their teen years, the two Peters would perform crazy stunts on top of that wall in an effort to impress Elaine, who probably thought they were silly buggars. That evening, Jen surprised me by announcing she and a friend would come to the workshop. She had asked me yet again to please call her Jen, not Jenny. "Jenny" just rolled off my tongue. "Jen" was a struggle. I promised to try.

What a strange day Sunday July 22^nd was. People started arriving as I left to pick up Gladys. From there I drove to the station to collect Tamara and Shontara. On the escalator at Central Station, Shontara had an unfortunate accident when the hem of her cloak became tangled in the mechanism. She was alright but it was not the best way to start a workshop on past lives when she saw her present flashing before her eyes. The edge of her beautiful gold velvet cape was smeared with grease but Steve came to the rescue by spraying it with degreaser before we washed it. It worked, and did not seem to harm the fabric. In many respects, it proved to be a good thing because while we did that my twelve guests had a chance to get to know one another. Still, the delay had an impact on the time we could spare on each exercise with the result we agreed to do her aura workshop instead.

We started with a meditation to cleanse our auras during which we were to ask for words relating to each of us. After we came out of the meditation we were asked to write down the words we got. Mine were: Doubt, Relax, Intuition, Trust, Answers, Power, and Energy. Shontara then asked each of us to use our words in ways that told us what we needed to know about ourselves. We understood the question. We just didn’t know how to relate the words to ourselves. To help us out, she used my words as an example. She said they were spot-on for I have heaps of energy, immense personal power, which I am not fully aware of, and I need to trust my intuition and stop doubting the answers I’m given. How I can do that is to relax, for only then will I truly be an “Open Channel”. I was amazed at how she put those words together in a way I could understand. However, looking at oneself is always difficult so she gave everyone her explanation of their words. It was the first time many of them saw themselves in such a positive light. Our next exercise was to try and see each other’s auras. Unfortunately, very few of us had much success. Petula would have done well but she couldn’t come.

After lunch, during a talk on spirit guides, I mentioned the monk-like guide with the “body” of beautiful light. Shontara said she had a similar experience, documented in her book, in which the figure was Jesus himself. When I told about Isis and how she helped me with the Celtic side of the cupboard, Leigh passed around some photos she had taken with her camera, an infinitely better one than mine. The difference in quality was extraordinary. Shontara asked if she could see the actual cupboard and we all filed into Tamara’s old room.



At the end of the day, Shontara sold copies of her book at $20.00 each and said she would be holding a past life workshop at her Beenleigh home on August 4^th for those who were interested. If that was no good, she said she was happy to come up if someone wished to host a day. Dana said she would see if the library will take some copies of her book. At 4pm, I took her to the station. She wore her beautiful cape, by then dry and as good as new, but assured everyone she would never step onto an escalator wearing it again. While I was away Tamara entertained the guests with Tarot, clairvoyant and palm readings. From all accounts, she was very good.

When Che came to collect Jen, I thanked him for encouraging her to come as I felt she got a lot out of it. The next day, he came around to take me to see the house. As we walked through the beautiful home we had the closest heart-to-heart we had ever had. He told me he knows Andrew (the plumber) is his guardian angel and that he has been looking after him. He said he knows he’s been very lucky, and accepts he has some psychic ability. He also told me he is aware there is more to his relationship with Jen than meets the eye, and he understands this is make or break time for them. On Tuesday, Tamara called to say she has another interview the next day for the Department of Corporate Affairs, but she doesn’t think she will get it, or the Queensland Health job. She said she can’t explain it but feels she has to stay where she is for some reason.

On Wednesday, I got an email from Dana. She was very happy she went on Sunday, was very impressed with Shontara, and said the words she got were precisely what she is dealing with in her present life. I also got a call from Heather saying much the same things. Both would love to go to the past life workshop but would have to see what happens with work. Petula rang. Neville refused to accept the terms of her letter and told her he would see her in court. With no car, her relationship with Mark going nowhere, and being evicted from her house, she didn’t need any more drama. It was going to be a long, dirty, knock down, drag out fight to the finish. Shontara called to say I need to translate the hieroglyphs on the cupboard for they contain a message for me. How the hell am I supposed to do that?

On Thursday, Leigh called to say her group loved Sunday and would do a past life workshop, but not at Beenleigh. I told her what Shontara said about translating the hieroglyphs and she said she would ask her student teacher friend. She rang back that night to say Leah had English translations to many of the more common hieroglyphs. Leah was the woman who didn’t have the money on the reading day but dropped it into my letter box as promised. It was indeed a strange world.

On Saturday, Steve and I went to the library and while I was on the computer, he filled in time in any way he could. He said the lady responsible for the Tarot display was packing up her stuff and suggested I see her about the cards Shontara gave me. She had never heard of any even remotely like I described and said they may be a very old or obscure deck. She suggested I meditate on each card and write up my impressions in a notebook. On Sunday, Che and Gregg came around to move some of his fish tanks. With that, the finality of it all sank in. He got a little teary as he looked around the only home he had ever known. He was such a mixture: the wisdom of an ancient twinned with the needs of a boy stepping into the world.

Early the following Saturday morning I met Tamara at Central Station and we got the train to Beenleigh where we were met by Shontara’s husband. The day turned out to be anything but what I expected. Shontara showed me a painting Peter Harvoe had done for her. It was really beautiful and I wondered if I would ever be able to paint like that. Of the expected thirteen people, only four came. One, an odd chap named Michael, said we all shared Hebrew and Egyptian lives. During our introductions and talks about ourselves I learned he was involved with a meditation group. He took people into the meditation while his friend sat outside the circle drawing the guides that came in for everyone. That’s when Shontara said: “Tell Mary who that is, Michael.” It was Peter Harvoe!

The first exercise of the workshop involved a meditation that took us into a room with a blank screen on one wall. We were to look at the screen and wait until something came, but not to force anything. For what seemed like an eternity I saw nothing but the blank screen. I asked my guides for assistance and the next thing I knew I was watching a puritan woman walking up steps to the gallows. In my role of observer only, I recall thinking, despite knowing the woman was me in that life: I thought they burned them. It was surreal. The vision lasted just a few seconds, then nothing. Suddenly, to an ungodly holler I now accept was the “Rebel Yell”, I saw grey-clad soldiers racing up an embankment firing their rifles. It was so realistic. I could even taste the dirt whipped up by their boots. As with the woman about to be hanged, a thought wandered as I observed the scene: Was I one of the Confederates or was I on the Union side getting shot at? The next thought brought an answer. I was a Union soldier. That thought took me to a previous past life workshop. Then we were asked to look at our feet. What were we wearing on them? What clothing did we wear? What did we look like? Did we get a name or a place? I saw a Union soldier I knew had to be an officer because he was standing in front of a tent at a table on which was a map. He had dark hair, a beard and moustache. I didn’t get a name, though. As suddenly as the Civil War battle image came it was gone, replaced by the head of a shark, its mouth open to expose huge, razor-sharp teeth. It seemed to leap right out of the screen and gave me such a fright. I didn’t see who I was in that life except that I was looking down at that shark. Perhaps I had to ‘walk the plank’.

When we discussed what we had seen, Michael said he wasn’t surprised all my images were death scenes for in every life I had either been executed, imprisoned, or tortured for my beliefs, be they religious, political, mystical or otherwise. In this life, I have to face that fear. I will not be killed for my beliefs, but I must face the fear attached to the emotion. It made so much sense. For the first time, I actually felt I understood who I was and why I have to do this work. After everyone had their turn, he told me this could be my last life if I mastered that fear. As one thing led to another, I found myself telling him what Sarina said about being my own guide. He agreed. He said my energy and my guide’s energy was identical. In other words, he said, my own Higher Self is my guide. Then he said something really odd. “When the cat comes know you must accept it.” I told him we lost our cat some time ago and would not be getting another. “You don’t understand. You must take the cat in. It will be a stray. You won’t know where it comes from, but that must not matter. This is part of what you must do.”

Before the day was over I had learned a great deal about myself and my relationship with my husband and children. It was a truly eventful day. Michael said Che and Jen will not last the distance but will remain friends. She has huge karma to deal with in this life and he is helping her. The same applies to Steve and me. Every time Steve does or says something to irritate me I should ask what the lesson is, for he is my mirror and I am his. In the soul time we agreed to this. That reminded me of another Michael – Dr Michael Newton and his book Journey of Souls.

The first two weeks of August were transitionary ones for many people. Che popped in whenever he got the chance, just to touch base and be home, while Steve and I had our own adjustments to make. With just us, it was strange. In some ways, he was less picky, but in other ways, more clingy. I didn’t like either and I didn’t know where it would lead. On August 16^th, Dana told me she was going home to Canada for sixteen weeks. She also said some odd things about what I saw at Shontara’s workshop and what Michael had told me. She said I was lucky to have reached such a high level. In the next breath, she asked if she could buy an A4 print of the Isis painting. The following Saturday she told me a friend of hers would love a copy of it as well. She said I should get lots of prints made and take a stall at one of the markets. I didn’t think I was ready for that. Yet, on Wednesday I took copies of Isis and Excalibur to Kodak to get enlargements made. Perhaps, I was ready.

My painting of Isis

At my next email day I found a message from Dana about some angel card. She saw mention of them in her regular newsletter from Edgar Cayce's A. R. E. (Association for Research and Enlightenment) and felt I should have a set. On leaving the library, I met Kristen for coffee at the shopping centre. She said she had to stop into Zen Gallery first to see if her angel cards were in. Angel cards, I thought. How interesting. There were the same ones Dana mentioned so I placed a set on lay-by, along with a CD by Aaron, a wonderful young man working there who was into ethnic drums. When we left, Kristen said someone was with us. I concurred and we decided it was Mum and that she must want me to have those cards, too. That night, Tamara rang to say she was finishing up, but will have four weeks work at Centrelink.

It had been a strange journey for her and it put the Karmic Crossroads spread she got into perspective. The energy changed about three weeks earlier with the arrival of a new boss. A week after that she started getting messages from a young spirit who wanted her to tell his family he was alright. As she didn’t know who he was, or how to find his family, she couldn’t do anything about it. She asked Spirit to find her another job because, between the demands of her new boss and the young spirit, it was too difficult for her to stay. His desperate pleas were so intense she felt like a wrung-out dish rag. Finally, the day came when she knew who to deliver his message to. Unfortunately for her, that person, a well-known former Queensland basketball coach, was so enraged he complained to her boss and she was fired on the spot. The interesting thing was during most of the time she was receiving the schoolboy’s messages he was still alive, albeit in a coma, a victim of the deadly meningococcal disease. He had passed by the time she was sacked. Just minutes after getting her marching orders, she got the call from Centrelink about a job. Spirit, I believe, was saying “Thank you!”

Book: Redemption - Part XXXI - Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Connecting the Pieces

May to June 2001

As a child, I accepted as fact the biblical saga of Adam and Eve, their exile from the Garden of Eden, and the murder of one of their sons by another. In my teens, I questioned the arrogance of the Roman Catholic Church to presume it was the only religion recognised by a Hebrew God. In my twenties, I read a book that challenged the Old Testament as an historical record and encouraged me to view the Bible with a more discerning eye. That book was The Chariot of the Gods by Erich Von Däniken[1]. By the time I was fifty, I was convinced the Garden of Eden was really the lost civilization of Lemuria and that it, and the later Atlantean civilization, had been destroyed by cataclysmic floods. The paintings on the cupboard told me something else: when Lemurian and Atlantean survivors established new lives in other parts of the world they took their beliefs with them.

I instinctively knew the woman on the left door was Isis. What I didn’t know until after I had completed the right door was that Isis was the woman Petula saw carrying the child in my aura. The more I learned about Isis the more I realised my subconscious mind had been yielding its ancient knowledge all my life. So much made sense once I discovered the secret to my letter “R” doodles. From the time of the first pharaoh, every ruler of ancient Egypt embodied the god-king, Horus, once regarded as the son of Ra, chief god of the Egyptian pantheon. The falcon-headed god, Horus, was later accepted as the son of Isis and Osiris. After finding Osiris had been slain by his brother, Set, Isis used her magical powers to transform herself into a bird for the purpose of conceiving a son to avenge his father. She then took Osiris’ body to Thoth, the god of magic, to be restored to life. Horus eventually cast Set out and claimed the throne of Egypt, but not before Set tore out his eye and cast it asunder. The eye of Horus was restored by Thoth. In learning about Isis and her son, I couldn’t help but ask another question. Was the statue of Isis holding the baby Horus the inspiration for the iconic image of the Madonna (Mother Mary) holding the baby Jesus?



Left: Isis and Horus. Right: Mary and Jesus

The myths of the ancient past, and their intriguing parallel to Old and New Testament accounts, took me a few steps further in my quest to understand who I was, and why the Eye of Ra or Eye of Horus was so important to me. The right eye symbolised the sun. Its mirror image, the left eye, symbolised the moon. In my doodles and later drawings, I always drew the right eye. This may have been due to my subconscious allegiance to Ra (Re), the sun god. To the ancient Egyptians, the Eye was believed to have healing and protective powers, and as such was used in jewellery and all manner of artefacts to promote good health and well-being. The Eye of Horus was also painted on sarcophagi, tombs and temples because it afforded protection for the dead on their journey to the Afterlife. The ancient Egyptians believed the soul resided in the heart so, prior to burial, the heart was weighed against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of harmony, order, truth, and justice. If the heart was too heavy it was devoured by the goddess Ammit, the personification of divine retribution, and its owner condemned to the Underworld. This ceremony was known the Final Judgement. Is this not similar to the concept of the Last Judgement where those deemed unworthy of Heaven (the Afterlife) were relegated to the Hell (the Underworld)?

Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the Underworld, depicted weighing a heart against the feather

The Eye of Horus was also used as a form of fractional measurement, and for the measurement of ingredients in medicines and pigments. The symbol was divided into six parts, each representing a specific fraction. More complex fractions were created by adding the pieces together. The six parts also represented the senses: smell, sight, thought, hearing, taste, and touch. Was this, I wondered, why Petula saw the symbol for Pi above Isis’ head? Was it important that I understand the Eye’s mathematical purpose? I believe it was because shortly afterwards I came across a small book on Ancient Egypt. On one page I found a drawing of the Eye with its fractions noted.

Fractional components of the Eye of Horus

The “Rx” symbol, used by pharmacies and in medicine, has its origins in the Eye of Horus. The Eye of Providence, or the all-seeing eye of God, an aspect of the Eye of Horus, was clearly important to America’s Founding Fathers for it features on the reverse side of the One Dollar note. The concept of the Eye also features in Buddhism as in the Eye of the World. When I told Peter Harvoe about my letter “R” doodle, and my later connecting it with the Eye of Ra/Horus, he told me the Eye was most likely an Atlantean symbol.

Another famous Egyptian symbol, usually depicted in the hands or being presented to another, is the Ankh. A cross with a loop at the top, the Ankh symbolised life. On the same day I had my epiphany, a package arrived in the mail with a Victorian return address. When I opened it, I found a small round box, inside of which was a golden Ankh, but nothing to indicate who it was from. A few days later, inside an envelope bearing an Australian postage stamp but no return address, I found a beautiful card written in Liz’s own hand along with her business card. Naturally, I assumed she was in the country and planned to surprise me. On emailing her, I discovered she was still in California. She had ordered the Ankh online with specific instructions as to how and when it was to be delivered. The same day she mailed the card with her payment to the seller because he preferred to be paid in cash due to bank charges. In mailing the package to me at the agreed time, he took a chance because her payment had not yet arrived. When it did, with a card she had not told him was coming, he sent it on to me.

Ankh

Early May might have been an insightful time for me, but for Tamara, it was an uncertain time. Against her former Director-General’s advice, she had taken a job in Treasury, but it was coming to an end and she was yet to find something else. It was very unlike her to be so concerned, but on May 6^th, a calmness came over her, which left her feeling all will be well, something my readings confirmed. She had been so concerned with how government departments deal with temporary staff she wrote to the Premier, Peter Beattie, suggesting a pool of experienced workers be established to fill temporary positions. On May 7^th, Steve and I did what we did every year on Labour Day if possible. Since the fateful Labour Day march of 1969 we’d only missed a few.

In the middle of May, Tamara shouted me a wonderful trip to Surfers’ Paradise as a Mother’s Day present.  Barring hospital stays, it was the first time I had been separated from Steve and it clearly gave him something to ponder on because he was thrilled to have me home. A week later, she rang to tell me she had three months work in the Department of Premier and Cabinet, where she began her public service career, but when she arrived to start she was told the job was gone. She had been selected in case no internal placement could be made, and when it was, at the last minute, she was out. It was a cruel thing to do. Yet, the cards suggested something good would come from it. On the last Friday in May, she received a curt reply to her letter to the Premier. Her suggestion had been sent to some committee or other for consideration. Tamara may have been naïve in the ways of the world but she certainly had courage. The following day, we both read for several people at a natural health centre, courtesy of one of Leigh’s contacts. It was good experience for her because she was toying with the idea of becoming a professional reader.

May ended with Petula terrified of what to do regarding her settlement claim because Neville was contesting her right to do so. Life was unsettled for Liz as well. I had been looking at her work on an online auction site. It seemed pretty good. And although she was happy with how it was going, she felt it wasn’t what she needed. The trouble was she didn’t know what she needed. Gaele rang to say she was no longer living at West Chermside and was technically homeless. For the time being she said she was staying with her estranged husband and wanted to meet me for coffee. When I told her about the insecurity people I knew were dealing with she said it was a worldwide problem. She said things will remain that way until after the lunar eclipse and winter solstice on June 21^st. I hoped Tamara and Steve could find work before then.

On Friday June 1^st, I woke recalling snippets from several strange dreams, none of which made much sense. Tamara called to tell me she got a call from Virgin Blue regarding a reception position she applied for. That night, I did some readings, several of which predicted, what I took to be, an airline disaster. I hoped, in spite of myself, that Tamara wouldn’t get the job. She didn’t. The following Wednesday, Che informed me he was moving out to share a place with Jenny. Although I expected as much, I did not expect what happened when I rang the Department of Housing. We would not be asked to leave as four-bedroom houses were not urgently required. It was two and three-bedroom houses people wanted. However, the woman I spoke to added, if we wanted to move into a smaller house or a unit we could request such but would have to go to the bottom of the waiting list!

Two days later, Petula called to tell me Neville was furious with her for rejecting his efforts to keep their private business private. He told her he had no intention of borrowing the thousands she was asking for and his solicitor would see to it she regretted her lapse of judgement. The next day I had a huge fight with Steve over something inconsequential. His repeated efforts to find work were at the root of it but I couldn’t see why he had to take his frustrations out on me. That night, I did some readings for Tamara that suggested something would come up suddenly and from an unexpected quarter. When I rang to tell her she decided to come over for tea and stay the night. Her readings concurred with mine. Around 11pm, I was woken by Che and Jenny having a huge fight, not in his room, but through the window. She was downstairs. The next sounds I heard were feet stomping down the front steps, car doors slamming, feet stomping up the steps, front door slamming, and the fight continuing through the window until Steve told them both to shut up. Perhaps moving in together would not be such a good idea.

On the morning of Tuesday June 12^th, a woman called to tell Steve his father had passed away during the night. She said he had enough money in his bank account to cover his funeral costs, and that a funeral provider had been contacted. Steve was more shocked than he thought possible. The only contact he had had with his father’s siblings was through his Aunt June so he called to let her know. Shortly afterwards she called back to say she and her brothers wanted no more to do with Cecil in death than they had in life. Steve was to do what he thought best. A man from Metropolitan Funerals called the moment he replaced the receiver. They were handling everything as instructed, but if Steve wished to discuss anything he could stop by at 1pm. Steve then called a person from the Public Trustee’s office and the woman who called that morning. She told us of Cecil’s last months in the hostel where he was living. Ravaged by guilt, she said he sat in his room most of the time haunted by the life he had lived. She said the voices in his head and the shock treatment he had received in the past didn’t help. Whenever he spoke of his family, it was about the harm he had done. I was so grateful Steve had taken the opportunity to write to him when he did. It made this time infinitely easier on him than it might have been.

As there would be no service, the man from Metropolitan Funerals agreed to call us when Cecil’s cremation was to start so Steve and I could mentally participate. We stopped into Zillmere library on the way home so I could email Liz because Heather had been unable to contact John, her US-based brother. She kept getting a message that the number dialled was incorrect. She knew John would never move without telling her. Thankfully, Liz was online at the time and promised to do what she could.

At 9.30am on June 13^th, I lit a candle and Steve and I held hands while I talked him through a guided meditation. When I ‘saw’ a brilliant white light surround and penetrate Cecil’s coffin I knew all would be well. I thanked those who assisted in his transition. If Steve saw anything, he kept it to himself.

On Monday June 18^th, I went to Leigh’s home for another reading day. Glenys wanted to go first as she had to leave early. She was her usual reticent self but when I asked if the previous reading had helped her she said: “Oh, yes! More than you know!” The next in line was Andrea’s mother, on holiday from England and flying home on Wednesday. Andrea was the lady whose husband worked for Ansett. I then read for Andrea and her daughter, Rebecca. The cards were still forecasting problems in her husband’s workplace, and came up again in Rebecca’s reading. Andrea said she had spoken to her husband after the first reading but was assured all was well. She would tell him again and leave it with him. Of the two others present, one was going overseas in less than a week and was too afraid of having a reading, just in case she got some bad news. The other said she had no idea I was doing paid readings; she thought it was a ladies’ morning tea. I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. Despite being very religious and afraid of “meddling with the Devil”, she had a reading and said she would pop the money in my letter box as she lived nearby. She did. I felt it was another test. I will get all kinds of people in this line of work and I must know how and where to draw boundaries. The next person I read for was Sue, the lady whose daughter invited me to read at her baby shower. She popped in after lunch for a chat and decided at the last minute to have a reading. It was very timely for it gave her a lot of insight into something she was concerned about.

When she left Leigh told me more about the trip and gave me a lovely T-shirt she bought in Thailand for me along with an interesting wooden brooch. After more talking and looking at photos, we did some readings for her and her children. She was thrilled her eldest daughter, Aimee, the one living overseas, was coming back to Australia in August/September. I was so exhausted I fell asleep on the train coming home. Thankfully, I woke up at Zillmere station! That night, Leigh rang with some amazing news. Glenys had rung to tell her I was “very good” because as she drove through Strathpine, not happy with what I had told her, she stopped in for a reading at a little shop there. Just as the reader was about to lay out her cards she stopped, saying she got a message that Glenys had already been told by Spirit what she needed to know and that no more information would be forthcoming. To say I was blown away would put it mildly.

When I got home Tamara called to tell me she was offered at job as a receptionist for a well-known accounting firm. As she had an interview for an admin position at the University at St Lucia the following day she asked if the job would still be there on Wednesday. They couldn’t say. On Tuesday, we drove to Wynnum to pick up the Cecil’s funeral bill and had no trouble accessing his bank account. After collecting his ashes, we drove home in silence. Steve kept too much locked up. If he doesn’t vent soon, I thought, he will explode.

When Tamara learned she missed out on both jobs she realised disclosing to one potential employer that you have an interview with another is not always the best policy. She was in dire straits financially, and without unemployment benefits would not be able to pay her rent. She didn’t even have enough money for train fares. We helped her out where we could, but we were stretched to the limit, too.

At the library on Wednesday June 20^th, I was thrilled to read that Liz had been in contact with John. He was still living at the same Maryland address and still had the same phone number. However, area codes had changed which was why Heather kept getting that message. He told Liz to tell me he would ring Steve on the weekend. Afterwards, I took Tamara to a Centrelink seminar at Brookside. It was the usual drivel, a total waste of time and money. One thing was certain, though: the Warman-Casey passion for workplace justice was still alive and kicking in Tamara. She came away with two days work and said she had asked Mum for help, saying “Nana, I can’t do this anymore. You have to help me.” Later that day she got a call regarding another interview. She also received a more dignified response to her letter to Premier Beattie from Matt Foley, then Minister of Employment and Industrial Relations.

During a reading I did for her later that day I got a “Karmic Crossroads”. I learned about these spreads from Eileen Connelly’s books on the Tarot. A Karmic Crossroads spread is a Celtic Cross with at least three Major Arcana cards and five cards of the same Minor Arcana suit. I had four Major Arcana and six cards from the Pentacles suit. When I placed one more card down, another Pentacle, I knew that whatever was coming for her there was absolutely nothing anyone could do or say to change it. The Tower, in position five, the current energy, was indicative of upheaval while the extra card, the Five of Pentacles, indicated extreme fear related to the challenges encountered. I could only hope she would be alright.

The interview was in regards to two-week’s work, possibly more, with some sports and recreation section of government. When she rang to tell me she got the job she said she had been talking to her landlord, a former high level public servant about the letter she wrote Peter Beattie. When he asked if he could read it, she printed him a copy. He told her he thought it was well written and constructive, but that Beattie would never have seen it. Some lackey would have sent that first reply, which was more of a slap on the wrist for daring to write to the “Main Man.”

At 7.20 on Sunday morning, June 24^th, John rang. It was 5.30pm on Saturday afternoon in Maryland. The first thing Steve said when he got off the phone was: “He sounds like a yank!” I couldn’t help but laugh. What did he expect? John had been living in the United States for a very long time and had raised a family there. John was the brother-in-law Petula’s reader friend, Margaret, said was my husband in a past life. It was a strange feeling. I never had much to do with John when he was in Brisbane, although I had more time for him than his younger brother, Adrian, who developed an unhealthy fixation on me in the ‘70s. That he ended up like his father was sad. He enlisted in the navy in the 1980s, but that brought its own problems and he was discharged on medical grounds. He was mentally unstable. It didn’t help that it was Adrian who found his mother’s body in 1976.

Adrian also had an unhealthy relationship with Heather. In his eyes, she was supposed to look after him like their mother had. She did try, but when his irrational demands became too much, she told him to leave. He retaliated by threatening to kill her. He came to visit me once in the hope I would agree to be his carer. When I refused, he asked Tamara. When she refused he became angry but made no threats. He knew what Steve would do if he dared. In time, he threw himself off the cliffs at Kangaroo Point. After being discharged from hospital, he came to see Steve. He wanted to play the sympathy card. Look at me, I’m broken and battered. Now you’ll have to look after me. Steve not only told him to get out and never come back, he said he should have done a better job of it, and to make sure he did the next time. It was cruel, but it was the only way to deal with Adrian. Heather found that out to her cost.

Another intriguing development concerning Adrian was his friendship with trainee priests at the Banyo seminary. On a stormy night one of them came to the old house at Cribb Island looking for him. I opened the door at the very same instant a flash of lightening lit up the sky behind him. To the accompanying rumble of thunder, the man flung off his raincoat and hat with a flourish. My scream brought Steve racing to the door. It was an exact replay of a time in my early childhood when my great uncle came to visit. In another time and place, another man must have done the same thing, a man who left an indelible impression on me and not a good one.

On Wednesday June 27^th, I received an amazing email from Liz. For some months I had been doing readings for her in regards to a new friend she met through her auction site. He had bought some jewellery for his mother and maintained contact. Her disintegrating marriage was the only reason she continued communicating with him, but my readings warned he was not who he claimed to be. He had a dark side she needed to be very wary of. She also maintained contact with another person who bought jewellery from her site. This was a lady in Arizona. The email Liz sent me concerned both. Unknown to me, she had sent this woman all my readings about the man. She not only concurred, she had things to say about me. Her name was Dee, and she was a Tarot reader and clairvoyant of thirty years standing. Dee said I was a “natural medium, greatly gifted, and powerful. I commune with the highest levels and as a result, get accurate information.” I was so stoked! I was at a period in my life when I needed a boost.

The next day another boost came when Leigh rang to tell me I had been right about her daughter, Jade, getting work in July. She starts on the 2^nd. At the library, I had emails to answer from Liz, Roberta, Gaele and John. There were also a few forwarded emails from Jenny’s mother, Merle, in New Zealand. When I got home I found paperwork from the Public Trustee's office in relation to Cecil’s estate.

[1] First published in 1970 by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Later editions by other publishers followed.

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