Circles of Separation: Winter Lights

Love is its own reward.

Chapter 45: Suspicious Arrangements

Mullum-Mullum was not in the rose garden. Amira decided to walk up the back steps of the old house and look around the verandah. Some dusty boxes and a few bits of dirty furniture were haphazardly pushed into a corner where they had remained for years. She spotted a small bookshelf and pulled out several, yellowed books. Her eyes landed on a familiar green cover. It was The Little Book of Healing. On the inside of the cover was a sticker saying, This book belongs to Rose Este. The book had long since ceased publication. Amira had given her precious copy to Thomas, a few years ago. There was something quite peculiar about the little book. Amira didn’t know if other people had the same experience but whenever she opened it, she seemed to read pages that she had never seen before. As she had read the book many times and it wasn’t long, she eventually decided that the book changed its contents depending on what was needed. She put it in her pocket and went back to her and Gabriel’s apartment. Continue reading “Circles of Separation: Winter Lights”

Circles of Separation: “Them” Talking

Several years ago, a handyman was fixing my dishwasher. He had recently returned from some work in Byron Bay.

“There’s a lot of work up there,” he said.

Byron Bay is made of backpackers, surfers, hippies, and hipsters. There are probably more Reiki practitioners than there are residents. The tourists save the economy. The sign at the town entrance says,

Welcome to Byron Bay.
Cheer Up. Slow down. Chill out.

“Yes,” I laughed. “Too many yogis and not enough practical people to repair stuff.”

On leaving my house, out of the blue, he asked me what sort of work I did.

“I’m a writer,” I replied.

At that point, I had not written anything new for quite a while. I only write as inspired. If there is no direction then I don’t write and even the desire to write seems to leave me.

For no apparent reason, he said earnestly, “You are a sweet woman. Write something lovely for the world.”

He was quite a bloke and the comment seemed uncharacteristic. I wondered if the esoteric culture of Byron Bay had affected him. As if his words had a power of their own or perhaps they were noting an arrival, I started writing again that evening. What I wrote was the first chapter of Waldmeer. I had never written or considered writing fiction. I was not a fiction reader; except for teenage years spent reading Mills and Boon romance curled up on the bed with my girl cousin in school holidays.

As I write only what I am “given”, I am always interested to see which characters appear and what happens to them. I find it really funny when I am told amusing things that will happen or that people say especially silly things. I find it sad when people refuse to grow. I find it wonderful and satisfying when healing and love happen. I have total confidence in the direction of the story because of where it comes from.

I have repeatedly been told that the story and its process must be fair; fair in the sense that everyone will be treated the same. Everyone will be treated directly about the issues they are working on. Everyone will also be equally valued from a spiritual sense. God does not have favourites. No one is ever seen as unworthy of every opportunity to change their minds, regardless of how many times they have turned their back on those opportunities previously.

A friend said to me, “No one in Waldmeer is safe.”

He meant that every character would have to meet their Maker in terms of their underlying thoughts and intentions. While it is true that no one gets to hide, it is, also, true that there is no need to hide. Hopefully, that is what is gradually discovered in the book.

On finishing reading Waldmeer, a relative said, “There is a little bit of each character in all of us.”

I thought that was a very succinct and humble observation.

Another friend said, “I want to be Amira and I want to live in Waldmeer.”

Amira is our collective spiritual self; her intentions are good, mistakes are easily corrected, and pride is not an issue. She knows that pride is a luxury we cannot afford. We are all drawn to our truest selves and we want to live in safety, peace, and happiness even though we are generally quite mistaken about what will give us that.

Apart from being fair, the angels (or whoever it is that tells me what to write) also instruct that the story and its lessons must be simple. Sometimes, they explain to me a complex spiritual idea in sophisticated words.

Then they say, “Put that in the book simply.”

Not an easy task. Only when something is truly understood can it be explained simply. Fortunately, they do not leave me alone in the task. They give me both the ideas of the story and the words to use.

The fact that Waldmeer and Circles of Separation have been written as an ongoing blog is unusual for fiction writing. Normally, novels are written and rewritten many times before even a page is published. Although I carefully edit each blog post before it is public, once it is posted, it remains unchanged; that is 115,000 words which have not been altered since it began (except for an occasional word and some grammatical editing). The Waldmeer/Circles of Separation videos on YouTube have had over a million minutes of watch time in the first year of being posted.

Sometimes, when a section is finished, a thought pops into my mind, That’s the best thing I’ve ever read. Obviously, I do not really think that it is the best thing that has ever been written! However, I think it is the angel’s way of telling me, It’s done. Then I can leave the section in peace. Until they start talking again…

Waldmeer/Circles of Separation

 

Circles of Separation: Magic Men and Women

There was something unusual about Rose. She didn’t do or say anything unusual but whenever she was around, everything worked well.

Chapter 42: Om Mani Padme Hum

Farkas pulled his hood on and made a run for Ide’s front porch in the storm. He was picking up baby Lan-Lan. Ide had been able to keep the house that she and Farkas had jointly owned, at least, for now. The main elder of the Clinkers had decided to rent Ide’s large, front room. He was using it for meetings and private sessions and, occasionally, sleeping there. His tribe name was Salt, although, Ide’s teenage son, Christopher, had always referred to him as Magic Man. That is the name that stuck in Farkas’s mind. Although Salt was an elder, he was far from elderly. At seventy, he could run through the forest almost as fast as the young Clinker men and he could, certainly, outwit them. Continue reading “Circles of Separation: Magic Men and Women”

Circles of Separation: Make-Overs and Move-Ons

Beautiful things come together one stitch at a time.

Chapter 37: Decorating Skeletons

Amira was walking along the main street of Waldmeer, greeting the locals, and looking into the shop windows to see if any of the familiar places had changed. It was her first visit back since moving to Darnall. “Hello,” said a lady outside the Op Shop. Amira didn’t recognise the woman but, on closer inspection, realised it was Amelia.

“You look so different,” said Amira. Continue reading “Circles of Separation: Make-Overs and Move-Ons”

Circles of Separation: Curiosity Shop

Circles of Separation: Part 2 begins.

Chapter 34: Not Dead Yet

Two months had passed. It was still winter but no one in Gabriel and Amira’s Dementia Unit dance class was cold. Everyone was hot and pumping jive. The class had come to an equilibrium of its own accord. Gabriel was given notes from the “proper” dance instructors, although, somewhat begrudgingly. The notes were enough to give a loose direction and Wolfgang and Madeline would demonstrate the technical elements of each dance for anyone interested. Although Madeline’s mind could not remember the technique, her body remembered perfectly well the movements she had practised for so many years. Lacking in technical knowledge, Gabriel and Amira decided to go with transferring the feeling of each dance and giving their students an immersive experience. Basically, all that meant was turning the music up and dancing enthusiastically with the class members in, more or less, the appropriate style. Continue reading “Circles of Separation: Curiosity Shop”