Scotland

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Picture: As The Edinburgh Rain Fell by Jeff Rowland

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Tears of gratitude,

Flow like waves through your cliffs,

Like your fresh torrent streams.

From afar, your songs come to me

In codes and radio waves.

I observe and allow

And let go of my grief.

Homesick of Lothian,

I accept this present moment,

Not the form, labeled by the mind,

But the immortal essence

Where everything mortal takes place.

Wherever the Universe

Leads this vehicle-body,

And its software-mind,

Nothing is ever really lost.

For I am the awareness that lies behind.

This you taught me,

Scotland.

 

Herons

At The Foot Of The Rock • Ai Piedi Della Rocca

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Picture: Edinburgh Castle Fireworks, New Year, Scotland by Andrew Peutherer

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You’ll find the original poem in Italian below the English translation.

 

At The Foot Of The Rock

 

City of pilgrimage,

Of clear illusions

Beyond which

The sea kicks, the stone screams, the leaves dance.

 

City of great beginnings without and end

Always a step beyond the boundary

Beyond which

Nothing exists.

 

I dissolve all judgment

I bravely throw myself off the ledge

Beyond which

Only rebirth,

And death nevermore.

 

Ai Piedi Della Rocca

 

Città di peregrinazioni,

Di nitide illusioni

Oltre le quali

Il mare scalcia, la roccia grida, le foglie danzano.

 

Città di grandi inizi senza fine

Sempre un passo oltre il confine

Oltre il quale

Nulla esiste.

 

Dissolvo il giudizio,

Mi getto ardito dal precipizio

Oltre il quale

Soltanto la rinascita,

E mai più morire.

 

Herons

 

 

 

Scarlet Cherry Tree

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Picture: Red Autumn Tree Of Life by Christine Bell

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Ablaze in the rain,

Burning cold

At the foothills of the stronghold,

No leaf sprouts in vain.

October showcases its trinkets,

While clouds of milk spread in the teacups.

Tree, standing in my mind, coming back in brackets,

Lively, dancing, delicate in the downs, light in the ups.

The gardens breathe through Me,

All labels are soaked and shredded in the rain,

There’s only space for Thee

Beyond the veil of pleasure and pain.

Teach me, oh, teach me,

The art of shifting seasons,

Transcending the small me,

In the language of the unspoken Reasons.

Ablaze in the rain,

Growing young and old,

Simultaneously unfold

Death, birth, and all things mundane.

The Source of creation is everywhere around you

And within

Each and every subatomic particle.

Surrender to Yourself.

 

Herons

Follow The Fox

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Picture: Sun Fox by Crista Forest

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Alert.

You call me out

And deliver your message.

Untamed dog, silent as the night,

Whisky-ambered,

Unseen and unforeseen citizen

Of Edinburgh.

No memories of the jolly forest

And its domestic fragrances;

No worries for the metal boulders

Sliding loudly on the cold pavement.

You’re only here

And now.

Weird lights radiate yellow and orange;

Humans stroll around

In search of spirits,

In order to lift their spirits.

“Align to your wildest intuition,”

You tell me.

“Be here,”

You tell me.

“And follow me

To the last drop of blood pumped in your heart,

And beyond.”

 

Herons

We Are Among You: Episode 4

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Picture: Starbound Hylotl by Aleltg

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A seagull lands in the middle of the empty sidewalk. It scampers, carefree, around the corner of a 19th-century red-brick building. The air gets sparkling and a man with a brow top hat comes out of the same corner. Juma is eating her pies on a bench in Nicholson Square throwing bits and scrambles to the crowd of crows, pigeons an gulls. She perceives the vibrational shift happened in front of her. The man is staring at her with a grin on his face. He’s tall, probably in his sixties; he has a beard stubble, grey sideburns and a pair of blue eyes on his skinny long face. He’s wearing an old dark green leather jacket and other rags. Juma connects with the guy on a fourth-dimensional plane. He’s suddenly sitting beside her: “Glad you’re here, Juma.” She instantly recognizes the frequency of his voice, as if coming from lightyears away. “Gabor.” She gasps.

“Gabor, you picked up my Atlantean name.

“Well, tell me more, man of many names,” she replies, her mouth full.

“My other famous name is Gabriel – it’s been a hell of a night with my Mary, haha! What humans don’t know is that on another plane it felt like what they perceive as a whole lifetime. To us: no more than a split-second. Then she naturally gained access to the 4th and 5th dimension, appearing to people in different forms for fun – that adorable silly woman. Enough tripping on memory lane. Watch this.” He snaps his fingers and, in the blink of an eye, she sees the man in all his other forms. “Now, you know more about me than anyone else currently alive on earth, haha!”

“Wow…”

“Be present to your amazement. It’s precious.” He stays silent for a couple of minutes. “I’ve been on this planet for thousands of years and, still, I’d choose to be here. The flow of things is just poetic… But I feel it coming, my friend. I’ve chosen to transcend the fourth dimension as well. The ascension is happening. The one consciousness is becoming aware of itself faster than ever.”

“Yes, that’s why we’re here.” She thinks of Kimi and he catches her thought-form like a jumping salmon. “So, you’re here with Kimi. You’ve always been a good team, he?”

“Of course. He’s chosen to wait on a train to come here,” she chuckles.

“Such a devil, he wants to experience waiting… and in turn, you’re waiting for him I reckon,” he grins. “I don’t blame him, it’s sort of fun to wait. Very 3D though. What humans don’t know is that waiting is a choice – like most things.”

“Gosh, you’re right, I’m becoming intrigued by this 3D games.”

“It’s natural… Experiencing new things is a huge part of the Earth Experience. Think of food!”

He laughs out loud while she tusks her haggis pie.

Kimi hugs and kisses his train buddies goodbye. He’s out of Waverly Station. He smells the fragrance of the new environment and spots Juma’s energy. Kimi walks naturally in presence, witnessing the light unfolding on the ledges, in the pools, on the dancing hair of the people. The song of the seagulls greets him. A crow calls him from above and, for a moment, the bird morphs into a bald man with sunglasses, who winks at him from his roof-perch. Overlooking the odd phenomena, he walks inside Princes Street Gardens towards the colorful fountain, under the stately presence of the castle. He’s suddenly attracted by a circle of birch trees with a tombstone in the middle, he’s got to touch it. Kimi feels dizzy after his fingertips have felt the rough rock; he has to lean on the papery bark of a tree, then…

Nothing.

The sound of computers and complex machinery welcomes him in a blue-green room with bright, glossy metal walls. His eyes barely stay open.

“Get up, Kimi.” The voice and language are familiar. He tries but it’s too painful: he looks down at his blueish belly and sees an open wound bleeding green and thick. “You can do it, Kimi. Get up.”

“Master…”

The Master has long fleshy hair, three red eyes, no nose, and grey skin. He’s wearing a skirt with a sword tied to the belt. He’s standing, watching outside the window. Kimi painfully reaches the window: outside, a huge star is shining in the middle of its colorful planetary system. In the same system, the Master points at a dying planet. It’s dark,  dismal, with red glowing streaks.

“You’re still under the veil of forgetfulness they play with on Earth. You won’t be able to remember much…”

“But, I know you, Master…”

“Haha! That’s a glitch. Don’t mind. You’re here with me to see what’s happened to that lower vibrational planet. You’re in a 4th-dimensional state now. You can connect to other parallel lives of yours with some remnants of duality. Of, say, sensory perception. It’s quite fun, my disciple.”

“What happened there?” Kimi points his long-nailed blue finger to the planet.

“You tell me.”

“Is it dead?”

“Or…”

“It’s being born. It really makes no difference…” gasps Kimi.

The Master smiles: “And so your life will finish in this one existence of yours. But don’t worry, we’ll meet again. We always do.” He unsheathes the sword and makes it rotate in the air. Kimi is afraid for a second, then, he enters a state of inevitable peace. In one single cleavage, the Master beheads his interstellar companion and Kimi’s sight rolls all over the spaceship control deck, then…

Nothing.

 

Herons

 

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To clarify the content of these stories you may want to click on the red words.

 

We Are Among You: Episode 3

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Picture by Insane Brain Products

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It’s Kimi’s turn for make-up. The new document reads “Oswald Finches”. He looks very shabby; his rock star clothes maintain some degree of style in spite of bruises and tears. “Let’s see what we can do with this handsome mess of  a man.”

He cleans up the unshaven face, grows a goatee at the bottom of his chin and a curly mustache above his cheeky grin. He moderately inflates shoulders, biceps, and pectorals of the otherwise cocaine-slim torso of his avatar body. He brightens its complexion and darkens its light brown eyes. The hair shortens in a neat and elegant chestnut wave. The devilish appearance fits his flippant humor. They both look at their mirrors and morph the picture in their passports. Using their index fingers like brushes they paint their own mini-portrait.

“Well, I can say you’re on the level, Oswald” comments Juma, visibly satisfied. “Before being interrupted, you were talking about a download from the Source…”

“Yes. There was a golden plate, a historical building and a seagull flying by.”

“Let’s go, then.”

“Wait a minute. Let’s check if there are any interesting clues here.” He starts fumbling about in the loft. He stops at the bookshelf, and the church bells ring from outside the window. He grasps the sign. “Ahhh, there you go. Going To The Big Something Out Of Skye. It’s a short story, says the author. And here, you find: ‘The salt is in the air, the seagulls guard the land…’ They must be coastal birds.”

“We’ve got to go to the seaside.”

“Yes, a seaside town with historical buildings,” replies Kimi. “Mmmm, could it be Skye?”

“Maybe… Oh! I saw humans satisfying their curious minds using tablets at the cafeteria. You’ve got a small one in your pocket, I can see the bulge.”

“You eyed my pants very carefully, he?”

“We’re on a mission,” she slaps his bum where  the phone protrudes, “come on. Check.”

“No, it’s not Skye. The buildings are more like… ehm, it must be a city… one of these… Oh! Look, this one: Edinburgh.”

“Quite close to the sea. Good enough for me. Shall we teleport?”

“Nah, I will take the train. It’s only four hours away. You can teleport there if you wish. I will explore humanity a bit… and feel on my skin what they call ‘waiting’.”

“See you there. Hey,” she grasps his chin and stares at his eyes, ”don’t get sucked by the 3D. Remember: be present, stay centred in the heart.”

“You too.”

“I’ll check the place for us.” Juma’s skin sizzles impressively while her mouth makes funny barking noises. A second later she sparks away.

“Woah, this body feels different without Juma around… Anyways. Oh, what’s that?” He reaches out for the acoustic guitar hanging on the wall. He touches the strings and feels amazed by the harmonic effect: “Oooh. I must show this to Juma.”

Linda Harriesmouth – a.k.a. alien in disguise beyond suspicion – appears suddenly above a tree on the slope below Edinburgh Castle. She levitates for a second, then plummets in a maple canopy and rolls downhill spectacularly. Tourists run to her rescue. A middle-aged Chinese man with his camera croaks above her: “You good? You good? Call ambulance, call ambulance.”

“No, no it’s fine. No call. I’m good.” She lifts her butt up. “Edinburgh, right?”

“Yes, you hit your head, miss?”

“Nope, thank you, my friend.” She produces a 20£ note and gives it to the Chinese man. He’s confused by the unnecessary generosity while the woman throws herself down the slope. Once in Grassmarket Square, she notices the seagulls flying idly above her: “This must be the place.” In the polyglot crowd, she glimpses a tall, old man wearing a brown top hat staring at her. He suddenly disappears: “Wait!” That guy must be a clue. She gathers all the stillness she can, then focuses on her third eye, but nothing. Time to eat; she smells food everywhere, her belly starts to sing like a whale. “Now I see why most of them are asleep… Overstimulation of the senses! It’s everywhere, in the sounds, in the colours, these delicious smells!”

“Pardon me, lady?” a middle-aged worker with an orange gilet is puzzled by her monologue.

“No, never mind,” she smiles and hands him a 20£ note.

“What the f…”

“Don’t worry, I have many of those, I find them there,” she points at an ATM, “get yourself some, you can even get food with that,” she winks and walks away smiling. The man is speechless.

Juma finally finds a pie shop and have six of them – it’s worth trying them all, she figures.

Kimi’s sitting on the train with his guitar case by his side. Suddenly the guy in front of him starts socializing with the girl sitting beside him. He perceives a peculiar kind of energy: the fresh vibe of a new encounter. Kimi’s fascinated and spontaneously asks the guy interrupting them: “Do you play guitar?”

The guy didn’t expect Oswald to guess it. “Yes, I do,” he answers in a Spanish accent.

“Would you play something for us?”

“Here, on the train…”

“It would be amazing!” chimes in the blue-eyed French girl, and the alien notices the freckles on her face glow candidly.

“Ah-han,” winks Kimi handing him the guitar.

Fernando confidently holds the mahogany classical guitar tight, feeling neck and hollow body with his hands. He sketches some spanish inprovisation licks and, after a moment of silence, dives into the arpeggio of Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven before Kimi’s amazed eyes. “So this is… music.” He gasps.

 

Herons

 

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Click the title of the song to listen to the version of Moonlight Sonata by Ludvig Van Beethoven that has inspired this story.

 

The Man With The Brown Top Hat

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Picture by Rob Hain

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It’s dark inside, the air is damp, the birch wooden moldings of the room are as dusty as the huge amethyst geode lying upwards on the coffee table like a sacrificial bowl. The guy’s holding a knife towards himself, its sharp point pinching his breastbone.

Suddenly someone breaks in: it’s Coriander. James Coriander looks at the suicidal guy with apprehension. “What on earth are you doing?” James asks quietly but firmly.

“I’m ejecting myself. I’m tired, mate. I’ve chosen to contribute from another dimension, the 3D is exhausting.”

“You’re meant to be with us on Earth, you’ve signed the agreement with me and the others.”

“I know!”

“Sleepy humans have contaminated you, isn’t it? It’s your earthling avatar, the ego software-mind, who wants to eject. Look around you,” he waves his arm across the room, “no wonder.”

“I am bored, mate.”

“Because you’ve lost your connection!”

“Yeah, they cut down the Wi-Fi last month…”

“See?! You’ve swamped yourself in the density of matter.”

“You’re damn right,” he admits.

“Now, you come with me.”

“Where do we go?”

“Here. Sit.”

They sit on the leather couches, facing each other. Coriander dusts off the geode with a rag he’s found on the sofa, then he looks at the guy right in the eyes. “Breathe deeply. Once again. In,” he inhales, “and out,” he exhales. “Now, let’s regain your connection with an IBE.”

“IBE? I knew about OBEs…”

“As far as I can see, you’re having Out of Body Experiences most of the time, with all that thinking.” He giggles. “Let’s have an Inner Body Experience. So you’ll be able to reconnect to the Silence Underneath All Sounds.”

“Ooh- ooh, meditation, this reminds me of my awakening four years ago. I think I’ve grown to like duality, you know.”

“Enough to consider ejection…”

“Mmmh, touché.”

“Feel the energy that sustains your body. The vital vibration inside of you. Let’s bring our awareness to the feet, up to the knees, thighs, pelvis, belly, chest. Let’s climb the spine, up to the neck. Focus on your shoulders, down to the elbows, wrists, palms, and fingers. Feel your awareness lighten up the body. Feel your heart-center. Be present to your neck – enough to shut off the chattering mind. Breathe. Relax your face, deeply. The forehead, and the whole cranium. Now that you’re dwelling in your body, stay there. If the mind starts talking again, gently go back to the activated body.”

“It hurts, man.”

“That’s the Pain Body. No worries, observe it without labels. It’s not positive, nor negative. It’s just residue energy in your avatar structure that the conditioning has trapped in over the years. Observe it as much as you want, cherish it, witness it.”

Time dissolves. Their mind becomes less and less talkative.

“You’ve got to cultivate this space of non-thought to raise your vibe. We need you here, man.” He smiles.

“How did you know my address?”

“Well, simple. An old woman almost fell down the front stairs and dropped her grocery bags. I helped her and seen the painting hanging in the hall – the one with a woman dressed in red dancing flamenco. I got curious and I’ve chosen to step in, helping the old woman carry her bags at her door – she lives on the ground floor.”

“Oh, Mrs. Andersen. And why you came up to the attic?”

“Well, a kitten guided me upstairs with her feline winking. So I found myself on your landing; I smelled methane from your door, a lot of methane – let’s not turn on the lights, please.”

“Actually that was my first suicidal plan,” he sniggers, ”yet I chose to not make a fire parade to get out of here.”

“What’s your current name?”

“You mean the given name? George. But they call me Taro, like the Alt-J song.”

“I’m Coriander.”

Taro and Coriander walk out the door and find themselves in the middle of South Bridge. A smell of noodles hit their nostrils. The two descend towards North Bridge, where the Man with The Brown Top Hat is waiting for them. They can see him in the distance, like a ghost among the stream of people flowing back and forth on the sidewalk. His frozen eyes glow like a portal. The boys keep on walking towards him, without losing his glance-grip. At the same time, they are aware of everything around them and they can slide among the crowd like young salmons. They finally reach him. The electromagnetic field around the three of them becomes almost visible. Some eyes linger on the trio with curiosity. The old man, his silver hair rocking in the wind, lays one hand on Taro’s shoulder, the other on Coriander’s. Most of the people fade along, naturally repulsed by their energy field. Others stop for a split-second and have a momentary glimpse of eternity. The Man with The Brown Top Hat smiles and starts falling to his knees; the two chaps spring to help him up, but his face says no. The old man closes his eyes and the features of his one-day bearded face become more relaxed. His energy dims for a second, then it bursts and overwhelms Coriander and Taro. His apparently material body starts dissolving in the air in multicolour dust, and the seagulls sing aloud. The two feel incredibly energised and start to laugh and shout out loud. The crowd streaming around them looks at them with suspicion, and probably, a pinch of fear. Coriander breathes in the fresh afternoon breeze and watches the historical buildings; then he moves his gaze up to the Castle. Taro follows. Every image is so vivid, every sound so clear, every gust of wind so pure on the skin, every smell so definite; the coffee in their mouth lingers pleasantly. A couple of girls chime in: “Hey, Taro! Who’s your freshly harvested friend here?”

“He’s Coriander, Lindsay.”

“I love it in hot soups,” adds Madeleine with a touch of mischief.

They start walking together back to South Bridge, carrying their symphony of jokes, puns, and giggles, as the sun appears above the old building’s eaves, above the puddles, the trodden sidewalks, and all forms in existence.

 

Herons