From little fairies to a naked man ~ all in a day’s spirit rescue work!

26 06 2013

Enroute to Calke Abbey on 10th June, Mike and I travelled along the A453, being widened by diggers ripping into the adjacent fields like metal monsters, acres of green fields turned brown with soil to be smothered in concrete roads. When we reached the end of this road I felt my eyes physically trying to cross, so crowded had my third eye become with emotional, spiritual and psychic stress emanating from the land and the spirits whose playground was being bulldozed: forty one of these nature spirits being transmuted to the light of their origin and leaving me with a fortification spectrum migraine that didn’t disperse until we reached the Ladies toilet of Calke Abbey, where I was able to remove tons more emotion stuck to my third eye along with another huge batch of fairies. This time I could see little children with wings: disturbed and murdered fairy folk 😦

Having cleared lost souls at Calke Abbey in Derbyshire many years ago, I didn’t expect to find any more in need of help on this later visit …but I was wrong! Perhaps it was because there were hardly any human visitors to the house and so the few shy lost ones were able to approach me without disturbance.

The first room in the Abbey is crammed full of stuffed animal heads ~ a common sight in Victorian days which does not sit right with us in modern times. Completely alone with my husband, I was able to dowse all the beautiful creatures for any souls that had not crossed the veil after their deaths. The magnificent creatures included stags, bulls and pretty-faced cattle. NINETEEN of these were not resting in peace.

The Trust volunteers, completely oblivious to my rescue mission, smiled sweetly and ushered us into the next room ~ where there were more of the same. “The family collected specimens from around the estate and also from all over the world; it was what they did,” explained the next Guide, when we expressed our distaste. Only two of these hundreds of souls needed help this time.

Yet another room, mostly stuffed birds, and two needing help. In a courtyard leading to the tea room (yes! :-)) we stopped to peek into a Tack room. I immediately connected to the spirit of a pony named Ginger and moved him over.

In a stone tunnel leading to the huge kitchen and servants’ quarters I jumped to see a naked man spirit on all fours scuttling in the cold and dark, trying to hide; debased and debauched and in need of love and tenderness. He was described as a ‘faggot’ and the imprint of his life’s experiences were unrepeatable. (Mike told me a faggot is an old term for a homosexual and in Oscar Wilde’s time, for example, it was illegal and resulted in the latter being jailed.)

In yet another quiet stairway leading to a bathroom and general storage room with children’s toys I met a young boy William ~ who was only interested in drinking his ‘Tizer’; a fizzy pop drink of the ‘fifties and ‘sixties. All in a day’s work! ❤

Angry fairies make themselves known, and who can blame them?

12 06 2013

Work on widening the main link into Nottingham began several weeks ago and my heart went out to the nature spirits whose homes have been dug up, flattened and stuffed with hard concrete footings.  Row upon row of trees, some of which have stood for many years, have been cut at their bases, ruthlessly destroyed in the name of human progress. Daily, we are hearing more horror stories of beautiful green-belt land being violated like this.  It sickens me to my stomach.  By the time we’d passed the diggers and bulldozers, the men in hard hats measuring out yet more green fields to claim, my third eye was so overloaded with screaming fairies begging for help that I was physically boss-eyed and grateful my dear husband was at the wheel. 

I meticulously picked out fairy after fairy and helped each little soul to transmute from the physical nightmare of having their homes and playgrounds destroyed, the shock ~ and the hatred ~ yes, hatred ~ of humankind and what they have perpetrated in the name of ‘progress’ ~ Emotionally, spiritually and psychically shocked, batch after batch, including children of the fairy folk, were passed into the light of their origin.  I  was left with a tiny diamond shape that evolved into a full blown fortification migraine: A consequence of working with dazzling light, but oh so worth it.  I could share many stories with you about how humans have been physically and emotionally effected by ‘malignant’ nature spirits…

Many of you know that Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) and 100’s of other famous personalities channelled Ghostwriters in the Sky: A Soul is Forever, not Just a Lifetime to me over 5 long years but will not be aware of one particular chapter dictated by Ursula Williams (1911 -2006), a prolific children’s writer and Professor Francis Berry (1915-2006), writer of horror.  This is an excerpt from the chapter entitled ‘The Wizened Fairy’:

The AlmightyI am the Resurrected: I am the Living and the Dead. When I made your beautiful homeland it was a Paradise.  Then man, in his greed for nature’s resources, chopped down my trees, again and again and again, until there was nowhere for Claudius (He is I and I am Him) to live.  The gnomes, the pixies, the elves and the fairies – the elementals of my left hand (that which has passed) – were barbarically evicted from the home they so selflessly shared for the common good.  Claudius and those that matter had no-where to live…” 

Fairy“…So we tried to flee...” (Claudius was tipped gently from the Almighty’s left palm to land with an ungracious plop, back onto my ‘groundsheet’.  He summoned all his dignity.) Some of us were killed in the process,” he wheezed.  “I managed to escape to neighbouring farmland, but the farmer in his ignorance sprayed his crops with pesticides and we were gassed out of our natural environment, choking on poison.  (He grabbed his sinuous throat, to illustrate his pain.) We sought refuge in yet another beautiful place – this time on a large country estate, where we could breathe again:  Those of us that survived, that is.  We made colonies – refuges for our fellow nature beings to hide during such a tempestuous time in our evolution.  (He paused, tears building in his bulging eyes.)  We loved our mature trees; our children played in healthy woodlands and frolicked in wild grasses.  We enjoyed many years living among our beloved trees and wild flowers, singing with the bubbling brook and riding the swollen river that ran through the estate.  Then war broke out once more.  (He bowed his wrinkled and bald little head and tried to swallow the lump in his scrawny throat.) The landowner died and his children could not afford to pay the massive death duties to your greedy government, so the adults who had played with us and loved us all through their childhood had to sell up and leave.  Greedy property developers gathered round, dividing and casting lots between them.  The bulldozers moved in and we ran for our lives! (His long bony fingers covered his eyes in distress.) We cowered in the dark places where no human beings dared to venture.  It was our only solace.  Our children were not allowed out into the sunshine to frolic and play, as men in hard hats tore open the sacred ground and built their towering blocks of matter.  Not a tree was spared!  The ground was smothered!  Our friends suffocated: Some could not leave in time… (He lifted his head, took a deep breath and folded his ragged wings about his dried up, prune-like body).  Our water nymphs and our undines cried tears with us; polluted waters from man’s chemicals distorted and twisted our minds and our bodies! (He stood now; bravely defiant, his swollen belly somehow supporting emaciated legs.) Nature became sick!  Man was given our earth as a playground to share with his brothers and sisters in nature.  Instead he has trampled us underfoot, caused us to rise in defence through the gathering of nature’s armies – the wind, the earth, the water:  The elements of no surprise! You treat us heartlessly; then lock us up, chop us down, starve and poison us.  What are we supposed to do?  (He folded his arms and stuck out his pointed chin, his bulging eyes growing in confidence.)  I am Claudius and I am one of the survivors.”…When you see your flooded rivers reclaiming your own sacred ground; your earthquakes and tsunami’s claiming more lives; your beautiful world shrivelling up and drying before your very eyes, spare a thought for us fairies.  We are tired of giving you our unconditional love, tired of choking on your polluted air, tired of being driven from our homeland with no regard from humanity.  Spare a thought for us before you concrete your drives and rip up your trees – and maybe you could plant a tree instead? he asked, affectionately.  “Give something back to yourselves.  Before it all ends in nothingness.  Here Endeth the Lesson.”   …

With a clicking of wings, he was gone.  Sadly, I downed my psychic tools for another night.  There was nothing more to say.’ 

“Nature  has  been  twisted  and  tortured  into  retribution.  Evolution  declares  her alimony:  A truce  to  clear  the  muddied  waters  and  reproduce  her  loving  seeds  of  growth.  Take; eat.  This  is  my body, which  is  given  for you!  The  biological  clock  is  ticking…” 


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