The day of the mysterious visit to the seaside dawned. Having been given various instructions, one of which was total secrecy, and another was to wear white, I was torn between intrigue and cynicism. Just incase I disappeared without a trace, I left a note for David in a sealed envelope under his pillow, telling him with whom I had gone and as much as I knew about where.
Shanti had arranged a lift there, as neither of us had access to a car at that point. I sat quietly in the back, listening absently to the conversation about childhood psychic experiences against what seemed to be every version of "Ave Maria," ever recorded. The meeting would probably take about an hour and a half, I had been told. Shanti asked if I would like her to come with me, or if she could go to the pier with our driver. As I was meeting a total stranger I said I would like her to stay with me. I like to be open to life's experiences, but I also think some common sense helps from time to time.
We were dropped at an address within walking distance of the sea-front. Our driver waved and disappeared, and we went inside to meet the mysterious "vehicle." He was not what I had expected at all, and he leaned against a table-top, looking at me, or the area around me, and saying very little. Shanti giggled. "I think he is mesmerised by your aura!"
"It is very beautiful," he said.
"I shouldn't think so," I told him.
"It is. If not in this life, maybe in a past life, you have done a great deal of spiritual work. There is a great deal of gold there. That's very good."
I didn't really know what to say. I wanted to develop my spirituality, and was looking for teachers, but this was all completely new and unexpected. And also very strange.
He looked at his watch.
"We should be safe now!" he said. We were waiting for his partner's exercise class to have started, so we would be undisturbed. He locked the front door while Shanti washed up our cups carefully, putting everything back in its place so that no-one would know we had even been there. We were then taken to the basement, turning the key behind us in the door at the top of the stairs. To my relief the key remained in the lock so there was an escape route, should one be needed. The small room was completely empty of furniture, and we sat on the floor.
The three of us sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, until a sudden sharp intake of breath by the channel heralded the entry of the incoming spirit. He kept his eyes firmly closed, and started to speak in what I can only describe as "flowery." It was not modern English.
"I bring you greetings, Sister," he began. He gestured to Shanti with his hand, and continued: "My sister here had spoken of you a great deal, but I needed to see you for myself to be sure that it is you. She was, indeed, right."
He spoke of many things, about the condition of the planet, and of man's place upon it. He spoke of the lightworkers who have come to lift human consciousness, and of me as one of them. He spoke of the church as having suppressed many ancient teachings, and of the Second Coming of Christ, not as a man but as an energy, as Pure and Unconditional Love. All of these things were very much in line with what I had read elsewhere and so, when I was asked if I would like to participate in a ceremony of Baptism, I saw no reason to refuse. As a result, I was told, I would be able to perform more powerful healings than before.
"With these hands," he said, "you can do great work. But remember that healing is not curing, it is merely speeding up what is meant to be. It may be that someone is meant to die, so to give healing is to let that happen with greater peace."
That comment, at that point, made me quite fearful of healing at all. It felt like a responsibility I didn't want.
Our time was soon over. I was reminded not to speak to anyone about what had happened, not even our host. He ran a business and felt that his credibility might be damaged if it came out that he was involved in the psychic world. For some reason, even his partner was not to know. I was led to believe that she disapproved of such things; if she answered the telephone when Shanti called, Shanti would panic and put the phone down, or speak in a bizarre foreign accent.
The journey home passed like the journey there, with Ave Maria on repeat while I sat in quiet contemplation. It was quite late, so I was taken home.
Shanti gave me one of her enormous hugs, and whispered to me that she would call me in the morning.
