Saturday, April 4, 2015

Easter. Time to share a chapter from my book "Rituals in Sacred Stone".

Dear Readers and friends,

It is Easter and again we are experiencing a powerful eclipse, the lunar counterpart to the solar we had two weeks ago. This also coincides with stories of resurrection of the phoenix, the bennu bird that disappears in flames only to reappear out of the ashes. This moon holds the message of the avatar.
I want to share some relevant chapters from the book I wrote about Jesus and Mary Magdalene, or Yeshua and Mariam as they're called in my story.

From "Rituals in Sacred Stone"

THE CRUCIFIXION

He received his verdict with dignity. The courtyard was cleared and Yeshua was tied to a pole. His shirt was pulled over his head leaving his back exposed. Two sturdy executioners each equipped with a whip presented themselves for duty. Forty nine lashes. That should do. Few people survived more.
Mariam turned her head away, but she could hear every time the whips hit his body. The whips had small cups with sharp edges at their ends that dug into his skin. He would have ninety eight indentations where skin would be missing before they were done.
Lazarus tried to watch the procedure. He was turning pale and felt nauseous before the tenth count. Yeshua didn’t make a sound the whole time.
The executioners looked disappointed when they were finished. But people had been counting with them. They couldn’t put in any extra whiplashes for good measure. They bowed to the centurion who had been standing by, before they returned to wherever they came from. He acknowledged them, they had done their job.
The centurion received a paper with a written order. He opened up the scroll and read. Then he scratched his head and adjusted his helmet. The sun was getting higher in the sky. He hadn’t had a chance for food himself since yesterday because of all this commotion. It seemed to be coming to an end. He was glad.
The prisoner was untied from his pole. He was bleeding from numerous places on his body. Small red trickles were running down his sides. He made no attempt at wiping himself but simply pulled his shirt to cover his body. The soldiers wanted to mock him further. They had made him a wreath of thorns and placed it on his head. The centurion couldn’t deny his soldiers some fun. There certainly wasn’t much to do in this godforsaken place. Why couldn’t he be stationed somewhere exciting, like Caesarea or Alexandria?
Mariam’s sympathy pains were excruciating. Did they know how vulnerable the top of his head was? Did they think they could prevent him from pulling in strength from above, or disconnect him from his inner power? Was this something Antipas had conjured, to make sure Yeshua couldn’t do any of his magic?
The soldiers gathered around the prisoner. The crossbeam was placed across his shoulders. His hands were tied along it so he would hold it straight. There was no need to tie a rope on the prisoner. He had nowhere to go. He was surrounded by soldiers, and the crowd couldn’t open space for him with his wooden wingspan.
It was time to move again. The Romans knew how to march. But this was slow moving and had nothing to do with the rhythmical trot of a good flock of soldiers. This was a funeral procession led by the deceased while still alive.
Mariam felt sick. Really sick. Lazarus bought some bread from a vendor. They had showed up this early morning ready to make a profit. Some goat milk was offered from a bucket. He made sure his sister got some. They stood in the shade of a tree and watched the group in the courtyard get ready.
Mariam gathered her strength. She dutifully ate the bread and drank the milk she was offered. Her gratitude went out to her brother. As she looked up to find his face, she saw that two other familiar faces had joined them. Her mother in law was there with her daughter Mary. Mariam collapsed in their open arms.
Lazarus looked ashen. Mary gave him strict orders to go back to Bethany and take care of Joseph. He did not take this very well and needed help. The two Mary’s would take care of Mariam. Lazarus had had enough of this event. He couldn’t take his brother-in-law being hurt and humiliated any further. He knew what would come next, and he didn’t think he would be of very much help. Mariam seemed to be in good hands with the women. Relieved, he left to do as Mary told him.
The three women watched as Yeshua passed them on his path, surrounded by soldiers, and burdened with the tool that was intended to kill him. He swayed underneath its weight, but kept on walking. They all pulled in their breath and felt their anguish spread from their throats and hearts and close their airways.
The women followed him as close as they could. At the steps by the Temple Mariam saw a familiar face. It was Simon of Cyrene, a man she had seen among the followers before. He was easy to spot with his height and wide body. She grabbed his arm and told him to follow with them close by. Soon they would need his strength.
They passed Veronica who was ready to give Yeshua water and wipe his face. Susanna was there, offering her tears and prayers. Salome and Johanna stood along the path, showing their love for him with their golden glow.
The people of the night had vanished back into the shadows they came from. The people along the path were their own followers. They offered what they could as the procession found its way among them.
Soon Yeshua fell, and the centurion was looking for someone to carry the beam for him. Simon was ready. He took the large piece of wood and handled it like a twig. Yeshua got on his feet slowly. He slurped some mouthfuls from Veronica’s ladle and let her wipe his face. A new sound was heard among the crowd. The yells for his crucifixion had stayed behind in Pilate’s courtyard. The sound heard now was a quiet murmur of encouragement. The people who loved him had arrived. They lined the road for him. They showed him the way, just like he had shown them the way to themselves. The words were condolences for his gruesome ending. The words were gratitude for what he had taught them. The words were love for a man who had healed bodies and souls.
Mariam was moved. She walked silently with the other two women. And where they came, people made room for them.
“There is his mother,” they said.
“I see his sister.”
“That is his wife.”
The people showed them their sorrow. They showed them their tears. Other men and women carried their pain and grief with them. The three women walked straighter, sharing strength with multitudes.
When they arrived at the hill where the poles were erected, Mariam noticed that this was not the usual place for executions. This was on a hill, and could be seen from far away. The hill of the skull. The hollow hill of Golgotha. Mariam felt the cold water run down her spine. Then she corrected herself. There were reasons for this, however morbid.
A warm hand found hers. She turned and saw the lovely eyes of a good friend. Young John had found her in the crowd. He stood with the women representing the disciples of the man who had taught so many so much.
The soldiers lifted the pole out of its holder in the ground. They laid it down on the sand. Simon was told to place the cross beam in the cut out indentation where it fitted so they could tie them together. Yeshua was told to relinquish his shirt and lay down on the cross. The centurion produced three nails and pointed to the hammer waiting in its holder next to where the pole belonged.
Mariam watched her husband stretch out his arms and lie still while the soldier hammered the nail through his wrists. They knew not to hit his main arteries. Then he would die too quickly. She listened to the clangs of the hammer as it hit the nails and watched his face for his response. He didn’t cry out, he didn’t protest, he silently allowed it all to happen.
His feet were placed on top of each other and the third nail was sent through them. A soldier produced a plaque which got hammered to the top of the cross.
Then they lifted it up, and carried it over to where it needed to go into the receptacle in the ground. It was pushed upright and it sank into its hole with a clank.
His body slumped down and was hanging from his wrists. He lifted his head to breathe better, pushing a little up from his feet. The pain was convulsing through his body and he was forced to allow gravity to win.
The three women rushed up to the cross as soon as the soldiers left him alone. They touched his feet, they cried with him. Mariam touched his leg and reached for him. She felt how exhausted he was. The excruciating pain was numbing and at the same time it kept him alert. Using all she knew, she tried to fuse with him, merge with him a little, take on some of the pain he felt. He didn’t let her. He had closed his field. His life force was being concentrated in the center of his body. She knew he was dying.
Remember the sponge, Mariam heard from somewhere. Bashra was talking to her from her herb bag. She had prepared a sponge with some special herbs for this occasion. Now was the time to use it. Thanks.
She turned away from the others and found it quickly in her bag. Looking for one of the soldiers, she found the centurion standing there looking at the inscription on top of the cross. He was again scratching his head and adjusting his helmet trying to give the words meaning.
“Please. Dip this in water and give it to him. He is thirsty.”
“He is dying, madam. It won’t help.”
“Please. Let me comfort him, even for a moment.”
The centurion had instructions to allow the women to administer to the prisoner. He didn’t see any harm in offering a dying man a drop of water. The centurion called one of the soldiers and gave the order. Mariam watched as he dipped the sponge in a water bucket and attached it to a long reed to be able to reach him. Yeshua was hardly conscious, but he noticed the wet thing touching his lips and managed to suck some drops off it.
That will do, Mariam thought to herself.
She finally gave herself time to look at the plaque that had puzzled the centurion. There was an inscription on it in both Greek and Aramaic, and it said Yeshua, the Nazareean, King of Judea. She stiffened as she read it. What was Pilate thinking? Would the insults never end? Or was it an insult? After all, this was what Yeshua claimed. Did Pilate in his lack of understanding, actually proclaim what they had been trying to say all these years? Pilate was a follower of Mithras, the Roman god of warriors. What did he know of priest kings?
Mariam watched the blood streaked, flogged body of her husband give up its last flickers of life. The flame went out. His color turned gray and soon there were no more movements in his body. He looked contorted where he was hanging. The hill was called the Skull, and over the hilltop the sky turned dark.
The soldiers were making their rounds to see that the prisoners were indeed dying. If they felt that the process was going too slow they would break the crucified man’s legs. Then he wouldn’t be able to push his body up to breathe and would suffocate. The soldiers were tired of their games, they wanted to go home.
“Hey, this one is dead already. That went fast.”
“Open his side. See if he bleeds.”
The soldier went over to Yeshua and stuck his lance in his side. Some blood came out.
“He’s bleeding a bit.”
“That’s fine. He’s dead. Let’s go home.”
Mariam was grateful that the soldiers were ignorant of the process of death. And that the position they pointed from made it hard to stick the lance any further in.
Mary had been very quiet and standing over to the side. Now she touched Mariam’s arm.
“Dear, it is late in the day. The Sabbath is approaching. We have to take him down before sundown, or he will hang there for a whole other day. The animals…”
“Yes, Mother.”
As they spoke, Joseph of Aramathea approached the soldiers who were picking up the things they had brought with them for the watch.
“I have spoken to Pilate, and as a relative I have claimed the body of the prisoner.”
“He is all yours. Help yourself. We’re leaving.”
Mariam looked at Joseph and they shared a moment. It was quiet on the hill now. Most people had gone home. Only a few followers had decided to stay to the end. Simon was one of them, and they asked him again for his help. Young John supported it on the other side as they managed to lift the cross from its foundation and maneuver it down to the ground.
He was almost cold by now. Mariam touched his arm and followed it to his hand where the massive nail went through his wrist. How could they get him off of this torturous device? Simon found the hammer the soldiers had used and gave the nail a good whack on its side. It moved enough in the wood that Simon could pull it with his hand. He tried to be careful, but still the hole in the wrist got widened.
“Let’s be quick,” said Mariam to Simon to speed up the process.
Joseph had brought a linen sheet and they transferred him to it so they could carry him between them. Simon took the heaviest load, and young John proved stronger than he looked, and took the other end next to Joseph. The women hurried around them as they left on the path down the hill.
“This way. The tomb is to the left,” Joseph instructed them as they entered the fragrant garden behind the hill. He had said they could use the tomb he had purchased for his own use when his time would come.
The tomb was an open cave in the mountain wall. A large stone could be rolled in front to seal it off. Inside there was a bench to lay the body on. They all came inside and Yeshua was placed on the stone.
He was even colder now. Young Mary was crying and her mother was comforting her. They all needed to say their last goodbyes. After some time, Mariam asked if she could have some time alone with her dead husband. She needed to do her duty as a wife, wash the body and lay it out the traditional way.
“John, would you take young Mary and his mother Mary and walk them back home to Bethany? I will just stay with Uncle Joseph in Jerusalem tonight.”
“As you wish, Mara. Make sure you get some rest as well.”
“I’ll take care of her,” said Joseph.
The women hugged each other goodbye for the night and Mariam watched them leave through the garden. John knew the way and would see them safely home. Simon left with them and was invited to stay with them in Bethany.
As soon as the others had left, Mariam started administering to Yeshua’s wounds. She washed the body the way she was expected to, and did her best to heal the many scrapes his skin had taken. The cut from the soldiers lance wasn’t very deep and was stitched together quickly. The ointment she had applied the previous day had worked well. The whips had not dug into his body as badly as they were built for. With enough white camphor and lavender, besides some pure oils she had and some cactus plants, they would heal very well. He also had eaten the holy bread recently. His whole body was tuned into life, even though he now appeared absolutely dead. The little belladonna and opium he had gotten from the sponge had done its job.
“Here are your herbs, Mariam. How can I help you further?”
“I need water, Uncle. And a brazier.”
“It has already been brought in, daughter.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“Nicodemus and I brought aloe vera to heal his skin. Lots of it. Be generous, Miriam. There is a lot of regrowth that needs to happen.”
Mariam looked over her supplies and saw that Joseph had brought aloe vera in abundance. She could reapply it all through out the night. It would prevent infection and encourage new skin to be generated.
They worked together creating a new herbal balm for Yeshua’s body. When it was ready it was applied while the lion goddess Sekhmet was invoked with incantations. Mariam sang a note and uncle Joseph picked up the lower tone. They created harmonies with deep frequency which resonated in the stone surrounding them. When Yeshua had been prepared with the balm, they laid him out straight on the linen. The piece was long enough that it also covered his body on top when folded over from above his head. Before they covered him, Mariam looked at her husband. She admired his strong physique, his height and his fine features. His hands were modestly crossing by his hips. As her eyes viewed where his fingers overlapped she laid her hand over her own abdomen, remembering.
I’ll always be with you, he’d said.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

LIght, bright suns and warm glows.

I'm back in Chicago, my adopted home town. Love the fall weather, love the festivals of October, love my cool neighbors who has invited for a Halloween party.

MARY MAGDALENE is waiting for further exposure. With the latest jump in consciousness which the earth accomplished last week, she is ready to enter the scene. There has been much talk about the return of Christ Consciousness, which we all support, but included in that level of awareness is her consciousness as well. She represents the warm glow, whereas he represents the bright sunshine. He shows the way by illumination, she assures us that everything will be ok as we travel in the twilight zone of dawn and dusk. (This is where life is more interesting anyway) We need to be familiar with both ways of living and not be afraid of the dark when we have our own inner light to keep our existence enlightened.

Through all my studies, I have finally come to the conclusion that enlightenment is a physical process. Good deeds are good, loving thoughts are wonderful. But at some point you need to know the laws of physics that govern the way. As human beings, we are the only species in the universe that embodies both a concrete part and a spirit part. We are like stones who can think, and trees that can walk and talk. We are so dense, pun intended, and at the same time so ethereal. There is nothing like us. So if the point of creation is to evolve, we are the ones who can evolve the physical world. We are needed if all of physicality is going to be infused with light. They're counting on us. It's hard for angels to move a stone. But we can. And as we touch it we infuse it with our consciousness and when we meet that stone again, we can say hi. Ok, that's cornier than I intended, but I've found that the more evolved you get, the explanations are simpler and silly sayings become very profound. The closer you get to the Gods, the more they want you to laugh. Laughter and lighthearted playfulness becomes an expression of an enlightened being. Love it.

How much light can your body hold? How open are your cells for holding photons of light? Watch the light streaming OUT of your body in the dark. Close your eyes, and see your insides light up. This is the meaning of enlightenment. Physical light, we know it is both vibration and particle, actual photons floating inside your cells, beaming out through you creating halos around your head. If frequencies are what we're working with, than all our emotions are like radio stations we are tuned to. Anger is a pretty rough, low numbered frequency. We can tune to another station. Love is a force in the universe. Not the mushy stuff we call romantic love. Love is a frequency that vibrates as the glue of creation. It is more harmonious than any other vibe and works with anything synchronizing it into a better functioning whatever-it-is.

I am laughing at my own words. Usually I have much more of an organized, laid out, scientific approach to this subject. But today I want to laugh. I want it to sound silly. Right now that works splendidly for me. If it works for you, laugh with me.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Secrets in Sacred Stone - Viking, Kelt and Catharr.

It's time. I'm returning to Norway for the summer, for three glorious months filled with family gatherings, fish and white wine, and a pilgrimage to find the footprints of the heroes of my next book. I've started on my next big project, another substantial historical novel. I'm going a thousand years forward in time from the teachings of Yeshua and Mariam, looking for what happened to the body of knowledge they shared with their people.

This brings me to 1015, to the time of the Vikings, the time of the Keltic Church and the time of the Cathars when they were the strongest. And the time when they all were in conflict with the church of Rome.

This has become a lonely footnote in the history books. The Keltic Church was the first early church, established by Yeshua and his family in the first century AD. The church of Rome didn't come into existence until after 325AD, when Constantin declared Christianity to be the official religion of Rome. It became the continuation of the Roman Empire and was declared the Holy Roman Empire under Charlemagne in year 800AD.

The Keltic monks knew that their time was short before the powerful and military strong bishops ordained by Rome would take over their islands far west. It was time to come up with a plan. They knew how to anchor wisdom into stone. They decided to move their knowledge to a place where it would take a long time for the catholic church to find a foothold. They chose a place with ample mountains and stones to anchor their faith. 1000 stave churches, dragon power points, were built in Norway over 200 years. Saints were established and buried in strategic places to form a geometric figure across the land. Bishop Grimkjell knew what he was doing. It had been planned by bishops and monks for several hundred years already.

Chretien Trencavel, a cathar from Carcassonne is sent to Rouen by his grandfather to get him safely out of their territory. He befriends a young Viking warrior who claims he will be king. When Carcassonne is attacked, he willingly goes with his new friend on adventures he could never have dreamed up.

Olav, the brave young Viking, appreciates his new friend, especially one who can handle a sword with grace and strength. They get baptized in Rouen and are ready to sail to England and then his homeland of Norway, where he will find support and claim his birth right as king.

Rane, Olav's foster father and steadfast pillar of strength and wisdom, knows the auspicious signs of Olav's birth. Following a vision, Rane went to the hill where Olav's ancestor was buried sitting upright inside. He took the sword and the belt from the grave and brought them to the mother, who was in hardship giving birth. Placing the items near her, the child is born, and is given the sword and ring as gifts signifying the important birth.

I've planned a pilgrimage with Dan where we'll visit the farm of Chretien, who took the name Ketil Kalv. We will go to Nidaros where Olav was buried, and to Selja where Grimkjell's monks established the first monastery. We will find the center of the pentagram that covers the southern part of the country, making it vibrate with the wisdom taught so long ago by Yeshua and Mariam.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

The historical Mary Magdalene.

It's spring and the world is again bursting forth with new possibilities.

I just did a lecture on Mary Magdalene's Message at Unity in Chicago. It will soon be up on U-Tube. I find that people are interested in her story as an influential person in history, people want to have the circulating stories either debunked or affirmed. Then they want to know what she was teaching her groups of people in France, in the colonies they established in Ireland and England, and what she and Jesus were teaching before they had to escape from Jerusalem in fear of their lives.

Historically speaking:

She was most likely married to Jesus. A rabbi at the time would be expected to be married, there were many duties that could only be performed by the wife, and if Jesus was unmarried he would not have been respected. It would have been mentioned somewhere. Also, the wife was the only one who would be allowed to tend his body after the crucifixion, and Mary Magdalene laid him in the tomb. Did she stay with him through the night? Maybe. 100 lb. of aloe vera were brought to the tomb. Aloe vera is usually used to heal skin wounds, and certainly not to prepare for death. Maybe she prepared his body, not for death, but for further life.

She was a priestess. In the Bible, she is present at all the rituals. She poured the oil over his head anointing him as king. She anointed his feet at the last supper. She stood next to him during the crucifixion. Did she administer the herbs in the sponge that was given to him? The herbs that most likely made him unconscious and made him appear dead? The Romans were willing to take him down after only some hours of the day. Even Pilate was surprised at how short of a time it took. His bones were not broken. He could have survived. He was well taken care of in the capable hands of the most powerful priestess, his wife.

In Provence there are legends about her arriving with an attendant. Was it her daughter, her sister, her servant? Sarah is being honored there as the champion of the gypsies. There are legends in England about the three children; Sarah, Jesus and Joseph. They all were educated like their parents and became the "branches" on the "vine", of the family tree.

Read the book for the real stories.

Coming out with new title: Rituals in Sacred Stone, Mary Magdalene's message of self empowerment.

I'll continue presenting her teachings in the next entry.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

At the beginning of a new year.

Written on the first day of this new year, January 1st 2014.

This new year, this new day, feels like the bubbles of the champagne I drank last night bursting in sparkling units of new life bathed in love and joy. I have never experienced this level of a sense of NEWBORN at the beginning of a new year before.
The astrologers say we're in a rare alignment of many important planets forming a giant cross in the sky. We haven't had anything similar to this since the sixties. This is a generational occurrence giving gravitas to this auspicious moment.
What do I see? I saw myself, no, I see out of the eyes of the wounded king who raises his head to look out of the window at his frozen kingdom. As he looks out, the ice melts and the ships in the harbor of his city can move again. The frozen world bursts to life, commerce starts up and the city bubbles with culture and prosperity.
Then I see the places where I've been doing ceremonies. The circle at Contemplation Point lifts up from the ground and circles in the air spreading good intentions for new life.
The diamond at Rosehill lifts up and shakes new vibration into all the genetic material present there.
The globe in the center of Unity hangs there with all the geography, water and land visible, including the local weather patterns, receiving the well wishes from the congregation.
The city of Chicago is blanketed in fresh white, powdery snow saying HUSH HUSH, calming everything down, calming down an unruly child until he laughs and makes spitballs in excitement and joy.

An auspicious NEW YEAR indeed.

All through 2013 I felt as if I was in a holding pattern. All I started received a wait ..., wait for it ..., hold that thought ... . I haven't even written anything significant this year. I did publish the book though, after months of editing.

What do I see in 2014?

I see new possibilities, new opportunities coming to me. I see recognition, I see success. I see money coming my way. I see travels and meetings with important people.
I see myself bursting out of what I am now and into a whole new form of living.
I see myself writing the next big book and the next little book. And editing the play - and making them all into TV-shows and movies.

I see myself stay in L.A. for a while and then drive north ... to Eugene and visit my grand daughters. I see myself traveling in Norway ... and in Normandy, traveling alone to do research and to experience the book, the people, the places they walked and worked ... Nidaros, Achen, Rouen, Ireland.

The feeling of this new year is of a newborn baby's skin, soft glowing, bursting with potential life, still at peace and in no hurry to get into it all, just savoring the sensation of sunrise. This feeling, this sensation of being in the first day of a brand new year
is like being in meditation
living in a golden glow
hearing the sound of the UNIVERSE
feeling the heart of the COSMOS
beating steadily, lovingly
pulsing new life into creation

the flavor is peach in my mouth
with the color of peachy pink
surrounding me

The day is staring at me with
happy baby eyes, laughing at me
dressed in light yellow
on a soft pink background


There is no need to ask why this day feels so good. It doesn't need to explain itself. I just need to allow it to enfold me, surround me and give me this blissful feeling of that everything is good. All will unfold just the way it optimally will.
All I need to do right now is to enjoy and go with this new consciousness and allow myself to transcend.


Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I will be on the radio show: "Voices of the Sacred Feminine".

On Wednesday September 18th, I will be interviewed by Karen Tate on her radio show "Voices of the Sacred Feminine". I am honored to be invited to speak on her show about the research I've done to write the historical novel about Mary Magdalene and her life; "Rituals in Sacred Stone".

These are the talking points I plan to discuss with her.  


1) Religion today is totally different from religion in the time of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. We consider sitting in a church on Sunday being religious, whereas in their time they lived their religion. It was alive in the legends of the Gods enacted at the festivals honoring the year. It was understood as a relationship of abilities and forces inside every person developing as they evolved in their own lives.

2) Yeshua and Mariam lived at the tipping point of a paradigm shift, just like we do today. She represented the Goddess religions of Egypt and Mesopotamia, where the old mystery schools functioned. He represented the new idea of LOVE being the new focus of religious understanding. Together they faced the old patriarchy of the Jewish traditions and of Rome.

3) Unfortunately, the Roman Empire adopted the Christian movement, adapted it to fit over the existing Mithras religion, and organized it into a Holy Roman Empire, complete with an army, vast landmasses and the same rights as kings. Religion was used to keep the people they conquered at a low developmental level, creating good sheep, to enable them to collect wealth and power. They quite effectively taught shame and guilt instead of enlightenment, and have continued to do so for two thousand years.

4) Mariam was most likely betrothed to Yeshua from birth. They represent two different tribes of the Jewish people. She, from the Benjamin tribe, him from Joseph. The Benjamin tribe had responsibility for the land the Temple stood on, and the physical temple. His tribe was responsible for the functions in the temple. Together they represented the return of the original Jewish people to claim the temple in Jerusalem. The temple had just been rebuilt by Herod the Great, but the rabbis were friendly with the Romans. A change was needed to bring it back to it's old knowledge and glory.

5) Yeshua and Mariam were well educated. She was a priestess of the old mystery schools, he was trained in the ancient temple traditions, from before the first destruction by Babylonia in about 800 BC. A secret temple existed in the desert north of Heliopolis where they kept the old knowledge. These two were not "priest and priestess" they way we think of today. They were spiritual technicians who knew how to work with unseen forces. They were experts on the laws of physics that governs the spiritual worlds. They used them and they taught them. As for her being accused of being a prostitute; let's expand the story. She comes from a tradition where the sexual act is seen as a fertility rite done in public at the solstices. Seen from a patriarchal society, everything she represents then becomes improper, immoral, disgusting and barbaric. It is very likely people like Peter, a staunch traditionalist, would give her that epitaph without understanding the profound meaning behind her culture.

6) In the Biblical text, Mary Magdalene shows up whenever there is need for a ritual. She washes his feet, she anoints his head, and she follow him through his passion and shows up at Gethsemane Garden as he awakens. Or as in my story; she stayed with him in the tomb administering to him, bringing him back from his journey. She must have been a priestess and his wife. Only a wife was allowed to handle her husbands dead body, and only a priestess could perform the rituals.

7) Much points to that they were giving initiations to their inner circle of disciples. The story of Lazarus is similar to an Egyptian tradition, an initiation called The Journey of Osiris. Administered by trained priests and priestesses, the initiate would be given anointments and herbs and placed in a safe solitary place and then leave the body, appear dead, be gone for three days and then return to their body. Shakespeare described this as Juliet's experience. In the Bible, Lazarus is sent on a similar journey. The passion of Christ seems to follow the same pattern, but including the treatment of the Romans. The question then becomes; did they plan for that outcome? Did they know what the Romans would do to a rebel, and planned their own pageantry around it? It would fit very well in the mythology of their time. There were numerous stories of the sacrificed king, giving his life for the good of his people. These stories were played in front of people at the festivals. Yeshua living it for real made him even more believable.

8) Seen from the Roman's side, the only thing worse than a hero is a dead hero, and this one didn't even die properly, but resurrected himself. This was a total blow to the Roman authority. They were made into fools in front of the unruly people of Jerusalem, who didn't behave at all like other people they had taken over and absorbed. The people of Judea rebelled. In 70AD, shortly after the story of Christ, Jerusalem was destroyed. The famous temple was leveled and people massacred. Another diaspora occurred. The Judaic people were again spread all over the world.

9) Mary Magdalene, Jesus and their families had to escape immediately after the crucifixion. Their lives were in danger. The Romans didn't want any offspring from this famous rebel, and the rabbis weren't too happy with them either since they disturbed the working relationship they had with the Roman authorities. There are legends of Jesus in India and of Mary Magdalene in France. We know of the travel routes of Joseph of Aramathea between Jerusalem and Cornwall, England, passing through the Languedoc area of France. There are also legends in England about the early church, the first altar made by Jesus and his father, the first church built by Joseph of Arimathea and the stories of the hides of land in Glastonbury given as a gift to the family by king Arviragus. They were recognized as royal and treated accordingly.

10) The body of knowledge taught by Mary Magdalene in France was perpetuated by the Cathars and the Merovingian kings. In England, it became the Celtic church, which later had its seat in Ireland, perpetuating the teachings of personal enlightenment. They were famous for keeping the wisdom, writing copies of old scriptures and building monasteries, the universities of their time. As the Celtic church was building in Ireland, and started establishing monasteries and learning centers in Germany and France; the Catholic Church was building their influence from Rome and heading north. You now had two different belief systems building up to a clash of dimensions. The clash came with Charlemagne, who continued conquering northward, while the Celtic church aligned themselves with the Vikings as their armed warriors. This is the focus of my next book; "Secrets in Sacred Stone".

11) We are now at a time when the wisdom of old is being reawakened. The teachings of Mary Magdalene are hidden in forgotten parchments and symbols in stained glass windows. The way to find her is to go within and find where your body resonates with her. Enlightenment is a very physical endeavor. It is a question of establishing more light inside your body. This very refined process is what she taught. It is coming back. In the media of our time, we are finding her everywhere. Thanks to this radioshow, and other similar work all aimed at healing this emptiness, she is returning in our awareness. We are again realizing that we can build our own inner light, and we are starting to figure out how. Lennon said it best; Love is the answer.

I look forward to talking with Karen tomorrow. Please join me at 8pm Central time or hear the interview from the archives later.

Wencke.


Monday, September 16, 2013

 
I just listened to an interview by Karen Tate on her radio show "Voices of the Sacred Feminine" where she talked with an anthropologist from Italy who guides spiritual tours with Mary Magdalene as their focus. It was interesting to hear her speak from an academic view point and then describe the very emotional responses of her pilgrims.
 
I've been a pilgrim visiting the site they described. As I traveled alone in France, I went to the cave she described in the mountains near St.Baume. Karen asked about why the pilgrims were perturbed, but there wasn't enough time to go into the details. Well, I remember it well.

I came there on my research journey for "Rituals in Sacred Stone", and visited the cave after I had just been to the cathedral where her skull is displayed and had a profound experience there. My head was full of wonder over what I had seen and I felt her spirit very close, so I wanted to visit the cave as well and be further inspired. I was quickly shocked out of my reveries.
 
The landscape I arrived at was lovely with rolling hills and meadows, and surrounded with steep mountainsides, not too tall. You can see some buildings hanging onto the mountain and there is a well tended path to walk. As I walked the path, still in wonder of what I'd experienced so far, I was further inspired by old oak trees and a path that many pilgrims had walked before me. I came to some steps leading up into the mountain, nicely cut into the stone and I appreciated the fine craftsmanship. As I turned the last sharp switchback of the steps, I faced a life size crucifixion scene, complete with three crosses with twisted men on them. They were situated above the short stonewall flanking the stairs, right in eye sight from where you have to turn. I had been reflecting on the female side of God, on the life giving, nurturing, creative side, feeling hugged by Mary Magdalene as I walked. The brutality of the realism of the scene was shocking to my system. And why was it there? It certainly wasn't there when she used the cave, and not a memory she would appreciate to be faced with every day.
 
I had to pass right underneath the display and I felt the eyes of the dying men following my back as I continue to the top. There is a humble little church there and some other buildings. A monk walked between looking like he lived there. He did not greet me and looked annoyed that I was there. I walked through the church to get to the entrance of the cave and tried to be as respectful as I could even though I did not grow up catholic and don't know the motions.
 
The cave is huge and has many sections to it. You come in at the upper part and there is a staircase to the lower area. I saw several white marble sculptures placed somewhat randomly among the dark rock formations. You can't help but rest your eyes on them, they are so white in the darkness. I remember the typical theme of the reclining penitent, eyes upward, arms up along her head in total submission, bared breast to show that she can't help her flaming sexual desires. This is not the Magdalene I know and had met so profoundly earlier in the day. I walked down the stairs and at the lower level I had a better experience. There was an alabaster jar on display that looked ancient, but bigger and heavier that what I think she could carry around. In the back there was an altar and a stream of water was running down the side of the interior mountain wall.

The whole place looked staged to display the old view of the church, as if they had taken even this, the place she actually used and worshipped at, and turned it into a reminder of the overemphasis on the suffering of Christ and the penitent prostitute she absolutely wasn't. I left the place somewhat disturbed. On the way back to my car I was again renewed by the nature scene and the old oak trees. They sky showed me an unusual break through of light between some dark clouds, and I took that as a good sign.
 
I've heard that there is a place on top of the mountain you can also walk to, which isn't very far or strenuous. I didn't know about this at the time, so I didn't go, but I've heard of others who have had gatherings there and said that it is a powerful spot. It is devoid of church paraphernalia and connects to the consciousness she established inside the mountain, truly a power point.
 
I traveled in France to do research for my historical novel about Mary Magdalene. I had many profound experiences on the way. The book is not about my travels, though, it is following her throughout her life. I describe her education in Alexandria and Ephesus, her work next to Jesus in their few years in Jerusalem and her exile in France. In my book they are married and have three children.
 
In the radio program, Karen Tate mention Lynne Pinkett's work where she suggests that they knew the Isis-Osiris mysteries. In my book I describe the Journey of Osiris as an initiation Mary Magdalene knew how to administrate. Similarly to Shakespeare's Juliet, the initiate is given a potion, appears dead for three days and awakens on the third. This initiation was offered to Lazarus and was used for the crucifixion to achieve it's effect and satisfy the Romans. According to the gospels, Jesus was up there for a very short time. Usually crucified people were left to be eaten by the birds, but he was taken carefully down after no more than three hours and carried to a tomb. Nicodemus and Joseph of Aramathea brought 100 pounds of aloe vera to care for his body. Now we all know that aloe vera is extraordinarily effective in healing injured skin. It is not what you would use to prepare a body for burial. It is an herb supporting life, not used to honor the dead. In my story she stays with him in the tomb. As his wife, she's the only one who is supposed to handle his naked body. As his priestess, she's the only one who knows how to bring him back. As his closest disciple, this is the only place she wants to be.
 
So did he defy death? Or did he visit the other side and came back, the way the Egyptians knew all about how to accomplish? The apparent order of events would have been the same either way, but carry different interpretations according to how much you were prepared to understand. Those with ears to hear will hear.
 
I'm sharing all this because I will be on Karen Tate's radio program Wednesday September 18th. We will talk about my book, "Rituals in Sacred Stone", but more importantly we will talk about my research. Seven years of extensive reading and travels to Egypt and France went into this and I finally published the book with Balboa Press. I feel that my work gives a new controversial interpretation of a story we all are looking for more details on. I wrote this combining historical facts, connecting the dots in the story and by submerging my self profoundly in her life. My readers have given me great feedback as they connect with her spirit.

Please join me on Wednesday for "Voices of the Sacred Feminine" or listen to the program later from the archives. I would love to hear what you think.

Wencke.