Love is a force to be reckoned with.

The message of Jesus and Mary Magdalene was love. Jesus introduced the new age of the Pisces with a new logo; Love is a force in the universe. It put the previous belief system on its head. Social justice was being replaced with compassion, a radical view in his time.

It is still a radical view. We're still practicing the importance of social justice, even to the point of invading another sovereign country or suing for minor offences. Jesus taught forgiveness and inclusivity, but it seems like the people who announce their religious fervor the strongest are the least forgiving or inclusive. I'll let that be a case for their own conscience to consider.

The church has over time taught us that being meak and humble was a sign of love, only to use it to create good sheep for their flocks who were easier to control. Physical love was called sin to create an over reaching guilt over a natural need for closeness. This was a very effective way of taking the teachings of Christ, turning them upside down and establish the hegemony of the church.

Having studied the Cathars, the Gnostics and the early church, I've found that the true teachings of Christ and his main disciple who continued teaching after he left us, Mary Magdalene, taught love from a different perspective. They taught purity of body, mind and spirit, so that the love you sent out would be more powerful. They taught that physical love between husband and wife in the bridal chamber led to union with God. (Now, love is love, and husband and wife refers to male and female forces, which are present in any combination of lovers). They found that love sent out as a loving field would diffuse a conflict, would provide protection, would create a field of inclusion in a community.

We can talk about romantic love, forgiving love that turns the other cheek, paralyzing humility taught as love, parental love, love between friends, etc. All these topics deserve their own chapter. What Jesus talked about was different.
Together they taught the idea of Love as a forcefield in the Universe. Love is a forcefield we can tap into and send through ourselves and direct towards a situation. It does require humility, a loss of ego, and pure intentions, but once you get the mechanics, it's a force with great power.
Love becomes less personalized. You don't have to love the person or the situation, justifying why you love them, or even like them. You generate a field of love, because anything in creation is made of Gods love, and you need to infuse the situation with more of it. If you have a conflicted situation, it is because love has been removed from it, so to calm it down, you reintroduce it.

This is an active use of the force of love. It is not like romantic love or parental love, which acts upon you, or love in response to kindness. This is a way of establishing yourself in the field of love, knowing how it works and then utilizing it as forcefield in your surroundings.

I'd like to give you an example. I was standing at a trainstation in Chicago at 2am. There was a group of young men waiting for a train as well, and I positioned myself some distance from them. I am generally not afraid of people, but I have great respect for the effect of group mentality, so I looked in a different direction and found a more stable footing in my boots. One of the men came towards me and said something. He was so dark he almost disappeared in the night sky. His face told me he hadn't met much kindness in his life. I thought that this could turn into a not so good situation. What could I do? I smiled my most polite and welcoming smile as I turned towards him, still very much on the alert. He was perplexed and said, "Aren't you afraid of me?" This was my chance. I assembled all the love I could attract from my surroundings and showered him with it, as I said slowly and in my most reassuring and gentle voice, "No, I'm not afraid of you." I stood there, smiling and holding the lovefield, as I watched the other young men observe the situation. The young man in front of me was bewildered for a moment. Then he drank in the lovefield like a thirsty camel who had been in the desert for too long.
The train arrived. He sat down next to me and leaned his head on my shoulder. During the ride I managed to switch sides with him, so I sat on the aisle side. I waited until my stop, and left quickly to catch my corresponding train. On the next train, another passenger who had seen the entire passage of events said to me, "It was a brave thing you did there." I noticed that a couple of other men on board seemed to have observed what was going on as well. They were ready to intervene to prevent anything from happening, to protect the young man from doing something stupid and to protect me from a situation I possibly could not handle. I felt that I had stepped into a protection field I had no idea existed. All because I decided to respond with love instead of fear. And to my surprise, I discovered how powerful, inclusive and protective it was.

This entry is an introduction to a wide topic. In the following blog entries we will discuss how to infuse yourself in the existing field of love of creation, the laws of physics that govern this work and how to use human intent and imagination to wield the force.

New focus.

I'm back from the Alchemy conference in L.A. with new inspiration. I realize that I'm not ignorant in these matters. I've lived a long time, I've experienced a lot and all this time I've tried to create my own framework of reference to understand my own process.
I've listened to a lot of good people with a lot to teach. Kathleen McGowan, the author, was there, showing me her parallell path to my own, with a lot more success to show for herself, which I can admire, or be envious of, according to which route I want to take. Dennis Hauck is always inspiring with his long and extencive personal dive in all subjects of Alchemy, from the mathematical theories, to the lab, to our spiritual progress. William Henry showed us how to build our own light body. Sonia Barrett gave us her crystal clear insight in the mechanics of evolution without any New Age Lite statements. She is profoundly honest and says unless you're willing to go into new places that are uncomfortable and difficult and willing to put your world view upside down, you're really just at your own favorite spa talking bumpersticker statements. Which I feel a lot of people are, including myself from time to time. Granted, there are things we need to heal, and for some that means finally finding some comfort after a harsh life. For some that means finding the last statements that are "in" and restate them in the right context.

To analyze my own belief system and challenge my own limitations, that's a challenge that requires some real thinking. I'm finding where I've been lazy, complacent, and seeking comfort because anything else have scared me. It's time to stop being scared.

Well, to pick up Gales challenge, what do I know? Why do I feel this pressure that it's time? Time for what? I feel like the white rabbit with the big watch in his hand who knows perfectly well that he's late, late for an important date. Oh, where's my favorite spa, I need an oilmassage. No? I am scheduled for a trip down the rabbit hole into unknown territory.

I watched Kathleen McGowan describe her traveling in France in the same places I've been, drawing the same conclusions. I watched her give a brilliant presentation of her work, of her dedication to Mary Magdalene and promoting her message. I listened to her describe her life, traveling, writing, giving lectures, and I almost cried. This is the life I wanted to live, the message I wanted to give. Where did I leave it off? Where did I lose track of my own mission? What happened along the way where I got distracted, got lazy, didn't go further, didn't attract the attention that I needed?
There aren't any answers to this. She deserves everything she has accomplished. She has worked hard, is an excellent writer and has excited her audience with new material that brings the message forward. Kudos to good work.
My work is different.

I have decided to start a mystery school. My friend Richard, who died in May, told me that I'm not a novelist, I'm a teacher. A young man at the Burning Man Festival I attended in 2008 told me the same thing. I've been trying to ignore the message I got. I guess it's time.

I want to teach what I know, what I've learned over a good long lifetime, from my studies, from my experience, from my children, from my granddaughters. But most of all from my guides. I've been in close contact with them for a long time. And they have gently told me the same thing.

In 1994 I was given a challenge. I was told that my work was to balance the relationship between the male and female forces of the planet. Everything I've done since then has been in preparation for taking on this work. Everything I've done has been doing this work.
I've studied it, I've experienced it at work, I've been in deep profound connection with it, I've learned what powers I'm dealing with and whatever I've done, Mary Magdalene has been close by watching over the process.

Now it's time to start teaching others.

The school will be called Mary Magdalene's Message. This blog will be the forum to start the school. I will available over a new email which I have established for this specific purpose. You will only recieve an email from me if you write to me on this email address first and request to be included on the mailing list. It will not be shared.

marymagdalenesmessage@gmail.com

The previous entries on this blog will stay here. They show some of my own progress along the way, some of the signposts where realizations have occured.

The first lesson will be:

"Love is a force to be reckoned with".

It will appear here in this forum by Friday.

Welcome to a new journey.

I attended a webinar Sunday which gave me an enormous energy down load.

At first I didn't even sense the energy field we were working with and Simeon's information was filling out things I was familiar with. This field was extremely subtle, but when I invited it into my body, it filled me with a gentle, loving, healing smoke.

I am still trying to understand the mechanics of how this works.
It seems like the "gods" need to anchor their vibration into physical matter. They can only do this with humans, since we are the connection point between spirit and matter. And they can only go through us if we volunteer for the process.

The energy field that they need to anchor is hard for them to explain in terms that we would understand. They try their best, but if they told us how powerful and important this actually is, we would be afraid and run and hide. So they treat us like scared lion cubs, who have all the potential power of a full grown lion, but who have no idea of who they are.

So I am present through all the initiatory time where I feel as if I'm being calibrated to recieve the full load of what comes later. What we talk about is good, but the most important thing is that we are present and open to being informed.
When we open for meditation, and I freely invite the "gods" to use my vehicle, I feel their field flow through me from my head to the bottom of my spine. They connect with the spark of God I carry inside and let the new vibration spread through my electronic system, my meridians, my chacras and my tissues, bones and muscles. I feel their love for me connect with my love for creation and expand to vibrate in each cell of my body. Light is permeating through my whole system.

After the meditation, download, is over, I need to rest. This time I slept for two hours. I wake up, still seeing light behind my eyelids and shadows of light in the room.

Today I still feel drunk on spirit. I use the techniques I have for grounding energies, and wonder if I really want to. This state of consciousness is very pleasant, as long as you don't have anything you need to do that day. Daily life takes on as much importance as moving stones from here to there and back again. What is important is to keep this state of consciousness long enough for it to affect my environment, my neighborhood, my city. I tell myself this as I connect with Gaia at the center of the earth with a light beam and feel her create a cone shaped field aimed back at me. Light through stone. Spirit through matter. Golden lightfilled bodies vibrating love.

I just got back from a trip to the South West with Dan. We started in Las Vegas, a place where amazing architecture and environments are all man made, on our trip to the canyons that are 5 million years old showing us the artwork of God and Nature over time.
We went to Zion, Bryce and Escalante national parks, all located along the same stretch of highway in southern Utah, but oh so different. In Zion we stayed at the lodge inside the park, hiked up lovely paths along rivers and waterfalls feeling our boots on the work of the CCC of the depression in the thirties. What an idea for rescuing the economy: putting people to work for the national parks building access for everybody to these landmarks.
Looking at the lines in the stones, showing the works of earthquakes and vulcanoes millions of years ago and the steady grinding of rivers over thousands of years, makes the fundamentalists claim that the world is 5,200 years old blow away in the wind. The mountains tell their own story. Their agelines compete with the ones of the trees telling us that whatever we do, however many short sighted ideas we come up with resulting in tremendous destruction, earth will just shake us off and continue. We might make ourselves extinct, but this planet will go on continuing her artwork.

I have been away from my post for a while. Yes, I got married, yes, my family from Norway and all my children where gathered in Chicago for a couple of intense weeks. I also had my five year old grand daughter with me for two weeks, oh the stuff you learn from children, and I delivered her safe and sound back to her mother in California. It's been hectic.

I think as a response to some insanely busy months, I've gone into a retrograde together with the planet Venus. My egg shaped aura, usually extending about 3 ft. beyond my body, has felt stretched and expanded. I've walked inside a large Christmas decoration complete with mesmerizing lights and the dreamy twinkling eyes of a newborn.
At the same time, I've been given a time with a focus on death and dying. This spring I had to put my 87 year old aunt in a nursing home in Indiana. Her house and belongings were sold at an auction, and I felt as if we were pulling apart her finished life, even as she was quite alive in her new home. She cannot comprehend what has happened, and I've been advised not to tell her. My honest goodie-two-shoes girl wants to tell her the truth, and my new role as her guardian tells me that it would be cruel to try to explain it to her while she's starting to be happy in her new situation. The financial guardian advised me to arrange for a prepaid funeral for my aunt. I went to the funeral home where her son had been buried. We planned all the details, and all was well until the funeral director handed me the newspaper clip describing my cousins suicide. I went to the grave site, an unkempt, unassuming, flat stone under a tree, and cried. Finding a silk arrangement at a nearby Michael's, I left the flowers at the names of the mother and son, where his date of birth and death is engraved next to her lonely birth date, and went to visit my aunt at the nursing home, not being able to share anything I had done that day.

At the same time, my brother in law died, and we dealt with three days of funeral arrangements, this time with people who were well informed about his declining health and his own blessings to his family. Quite a beautiful exit. I felt his presence at the funeral and saw his loving goodbye to his wife.

This month my aunt in California died on her 91st birthday. She had organized her cremation, her funeral and her good friend as executive director of her estate. All I could do was bring flowers and give a little speech at the memorial service. This woman wanted to be in control to the very last. She was a surgical nurse in a MASH unit in Korea with the title of Captain. My aunt knew how to give orders, even after her death.

I could bless my older family members in their later years, and bless their passing. But when my good friend was diagnosed with ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease, I lost it. Over the last year I have watched him slowly deteriorate. I drove him to appointments, I supported him as he practiced walking, I took him to the concerts he still did every month as long as he could play his guitar. Losing the use of his legs, I could handle, if he could still use his hands. When the disease made it impossible for him to play, I totally lost it. The voice I had heard sing for 16 years was becoming a raspy ghostlike shadow of itself. I started helping him with his computer work. He taught me how to work with the Garage Band program, navigate among his poems and organize his hundreds of songs on I-tunes, all by verbal direction. I answered his emails, writing his poetic answers to his friends in Paris, in Belgium, on Hawaii and all over Chicago land. When he wanted to dictate a poem, I had to hide my tears as he starts: "How happy and harrowing life is, concluded the last mosquito of October."
I watch his three year old daughter run about trying to look happy in front of her father. She understands that the best gift she can give is to be a delightful child in the midst of all this suffering. But when she cries as she goes to bed at night, her sounds belong to a younger child, and she gives went to her own frustration and grief. All I can do is hug his wife, help him with his medication and help her get him out of the wheel chair and into his bed. It's a two person operation to stand him up, turn him around and lower him slowly down hoping not to hurt his arms.

One of his songs is called One Life. One phrase is "me into trees". He means to say that all of creation is interconnected, but I'm wondering if his body is turning into wood. His knees don't bend properly anymore. His fingers don't move. In the morning, I have to fight with his legs to get them to bend after a night of lying straight.

I'm writing this to illustrate the world I'm in right now. The universe is trying to teach me something about life and death. And marriage and relationships and children. What else is new? Isn't that the lessons of life in a nutshell? Maybe, but I seem to have been given a crash course over the last six months.

At the same time, as I'm exposed to all these real life situations; the approach to death, the choice to pass over, and the honoring of a long life with an exciting story, I'm experiencing my own life as if I live with a foot on the earth and one levitating in open air. I just need to close my eyes, and I am one with my being and everything else fades away. I open my eyes a moment later and face the fact that I'm cooking a meal, doing laundry or admiring a sunset. I pause and look intently at the trees, at the waves of Lake Michigan and pick up a stone and squeeze it between my fingers, just to pinch reality and feel what is really real.

And is it? Why aren't the colored light I see behind my eyelids given equal validity? Why can't I speak of the colors, the sounds, the music, the words, the feelings I have, all this which I experience with my inner senses, which take me on these trips to beautiful places of peace, tranquility and comfort? What is it? I'm not conjuring it with my ever so lively imagination, if so, I would never be surprised at what I see, and the experience would be limited to what I can imagine. What I see and experience is always beyond what I could have made up. The words I hear, the answers I get when I pose a question to the ethers, is always surprising.

So I bury the dead. I make sure my aunt with dementia is well taken care of. I help my friend through his illness, and cry as his abilities are diminishing while I try to give his genius mind an outlet through my hands. And I continue on my own travels between the worlds, with one foot firmly planted on planet Earth while I explore what I can only see when I close my eyes.

Yes, we are mystics without monasteries. Where is the abbey where I could have asked an abbess like Theresa of Avila what it all means? Where is the monastery where the daily routine of prayers and meals and tasks would structure my days for me and ground my focus to earthly deeds, all the while allowing my mind to ask my questions and my heart to find God?

I just heard an interview of Kathleen McGowan by William Henry. She wrote "The Expected One", "The Book of Love" and is now coming out with "The Poet Prince". I admire her writing tremendously, both because they are wellplotted and exciting reads, but also for what she promotes. She is also writing Mary Magdalene's message. I admire her research and her courage to find connections and propose difficult controversial questions. Kathleen McGowan inspires me to contiue my own work.

Where am I now in my own research? Amongst a kitchen renovation, my good man on crutches, my aunt in the nursing home and the planning of a wedding, I'm reading alchemy. Or solving soduko puzzles. I'm also finding that I'm not called to write right now, I'm called to get my reality in order.

So all I can say I'm doing is surrendering to my situation, and picking up a broom.

This must be a stage in the develpment of a patient soul.
And I guess I need some work here.
I have another patient soul next to me, and he wants to marry me on June 26th.

We are planning a wedding ceremony on top of a labyrinth. This powerful pattern has been part of our life together, and was where we met in the first place. We have built many labyrinths together, and walked even more in many interesting places. Dan and I spent five days in Chartres in 2007, studying the ancient labyrinth from 1201 before I went on my pilgrimage in Southern France looking for her footprints. And because I had already steeped myself in the effect of this powerful symbol, I found her.

I found her and I found her husband. I found the AND between them. After that incredible journey I could never talk to just one of them. I always meet the two of them together, in the spiritual partnership they promoted and achieved. That was at the center of their teaching. And the Cathars continued this wisdom. No wonder the church didn't like them. No wonder this has always been called the worst of heresies.

The spiritual partnership in a husband and wife team is powerful. It promotes health and independence. It acknowledges the importance of both genders and see the powers of God expemplified in the forces of masculine and feminine in their union.

Mariam and Yeshua were teachers of a spiritual technology we know little of today. Intuitively I can see a field of science not yet explored. It starts with human consiousness, human intention and imagination, and uses that as a force field to create.

It is April, it is spring.

Dear friends,

It has been a while since I wrote here. I have had to move my aunt to a nursing home, which took six months of work with lawyers, bankers, doctors, church members and social workers. She is now situated and I have had to take a deep look at aging and how we insist on people relating to their daily life in acceptable forms. My aunt is now safe to live in her version of reality, which includes a lot of stories that are not factually true, but nevertheless true to her. The nurses are encouraging me to let her stay there. I'm struggling with whether it is my duty to set her strait, bring her into the accepted truths of reality, or leave her there and simply agree when she tells me of her brothers tragic death, that her car is stolen and that she's going home in two weeks. I know perfectly well that her brother died of old age, it was her son that died tragically, her car was taken away when she drove on the wrong side of the street and that she'll never see her lovely home again. The nurses tell me to relax. They call it "Join her journey". I think it is a beautiful way of understanding that we all see the world through our own chosen color of lenses.

So I go to my garden for solace. I plan for a lovely display of flowers this summer, especially for the garden party in June. I find my old friends as they awake from their slumber, and I speak to the roses who all need a little trim. Dan looks out the window and sees me walking among my green family knowing that I'm happy. He understands when I go to the garden centers and come back inspired and dreamy eyed talking about the just discovered old fashioned dusty pink roses, trimmed to small trees, that would look fantastic on the deck, and complete the Old English Garden look I'm trying to accomplish.

I speak to the plants and I hear their answer. While moving the Mogu Pine from the line of deciduous bushes to it's own corner of the lawn, I hear him comment about the old biddies he's leaving. The Dogwood and the Forsythia are such fussy ladies, he's truly grateful to be in his own space. Especially since I'm putting in a Spirea as an addition to the group. He can just hear her join in with the others talking about the lacy project of creating the most attractive blooms on their branches. I wanted to call him Nicolas in honor of being a pillowy version of a Christmas tree. He would have none of it. His name is Ansgar, of old viking traditions. I bend my head and honor this very conscious plant who is gracing my garden.
Can I talk about this as part of my conscious reality? Can I say that I can actually hear the plants? When I weed around them, there is a different sound from the nasty Ground Ivy when I pull it out, then if I inadvertently catch the long line of a Periwinkle, which I truly want to keep. The Periwinkle will give me a high pitched eeek, while the Ground Ivy will hardly have a sound at all while accepting it's fate of being thrown in the garbage. I can feel it in my fingers as I work. The eeek will make me stop before I pull the roots out and make me gently put the long branch back while I apologize.
Dan says that I have green fingers. I say I have developed a relationship with my green friends. My daughter thinks I'm cute and eccentric. Who is following my journey?

The garden party among the greens this summer needs to be romantic. Dan and I are getting married. After four years of living together, after our combined six children and six grand kids have gotten used to the idea, we are deciding that it's time. The plans are coming along. My lovely daughter is my wedding consultants and introduces herself as the "daughter of the bride".

We have agreed to mention the wedding in Canaan during the ceremony. We don't have to say exactly who got married. And it will be up to the daughter of the bride this time to check that we have enough wine, and to send her six foot tall brother to the liquor store to get more if needed. The miracle this time is the event itself. This will also be a reunion of family from as far west as Hawaii to as far east and north as Norway, all to join our celebration in Chicago.