In December 2009 I went to Albuquerque, New Mexico because I had heard it in a song! Some people I was visiting in Flagstaff, Arizona were very disparaging about Albuquerque but I was not deterred. My friend drove me there and I met someone who decided he would be my host and tour guide for a few days.
One day he took me to see the Albuquerque Volcanic Field somewhere just outside of the city. We parked up and walked across the barren landscape. It was a dead world to human eyes. In the distance were the mountains and hills but here it was just flat and dead, apart from the very small volcanos.
He led the way down the concrete path.
As he went ahead and climbed onto the volcano that he had chosen, my Spirit team of Angels and Guides directed me to follow a dirt path that went to the left. It took me to a cave! I was so excited! I had never seen a real cave before.
I stepped inside.
There was nothing noteworthy about this cave. It was taller at the entrance and the height tapered away until you would have to crouch to get to the back. It was maybe only 3 or 4 metres deep and it had a lot of dust on the floor. That was it.
I stayed just a few minutes, exploring the whole cave, and then left to join my tour guide. I reached the concrete path and turned left, picking my way over the uneven rocky surface of the volcano to where my tour guide waited at the opposite side.
He suggested I could play my little singing bowl again so I unpacked it and looked about for a good spot. I climbed on to the highest rock available where I had a great view across the barren plains. There was not a bird in the sky and nothing could be heard except for the wind.
I made prayer and dedicated my healing sound session to the land. I began to play the bowl.
I watched a small plane flying low and steady in the distance. And I continued to play the magical singing bowl. We were all alone out there on that 'dead' volcano. Finally I stopped playing the bowl and made prayer to give thanks for the energies and to seal the session in Love. Then I clambered down off my rocky tower and we made our way back over the volcano towards the smooth concrete path.
Suddenly I heard something.
I told him to stop and he listened too. There was nothing but the sound of the wind.
Then it came again, closer now. And I smiled.
It was a crow calling.
A few moments later we had a flypast from 5 crows flying together, calling as they flew parallel to us along the edge of our volcano. It was a wonderful sight!
Then we turned and continued to walk. As we stepped down onto the concrete path I told him about the cave. I said, "You have to come and see this!" and I proudly led him there.
When we arrived he gasped in horror and shouted at me, "Don't EVER go in ANY of these caves! That dust is POISONOUS! You must NOT walk in there and you must NEVER breathe ANY of that dust! It will KILL YOU!" And then he stormed off down the path.
I was shocked and confused.
Why would my Spirit team lead me to a toxic cave and make me go in it? I felt no fear. But I was a bit bemused by his outburst. I turned to follow him.
I had only walked maybe 5 metres and was now on the concrete path when I noticed something very interesting. I could feel my throat was hurting!
I had been feeling 100% fine all morning but now that he had shouted so vehemently that I had been in a poisonous cave my body was responding to his instruction - he had been so fierce and shocking...
I stood there feeling my throat get worse by the second, literally. And, even though this had never happened to me before (that I was aware of) I stood there and I spoke to my body. I had never done that before in my life and I had never heard of anybody else speaking to their body but I spoke to my body anyway!
I spoke aloud. And I spoke firmly, I was not messing around here! I declared, "NO! I am healthy! I am healthy!"
And IMMEDIATELY my raw sore throat was gone. I was healthy once more. It was instantaneous. I didn't give it much thought, I had to follow the angry tour guide and he was a long way ahead of me now. I had some catching up to do!
I set off along the concrete path through the deserted landscape, reluctant to close the gap between us. Then I heard something that was not the wind.
I stopped walking and turned towards this new sound. The angry tour guide must have heard it too because he also stopped walking and turned back to look at me. He bore witness to what happened next.
From that empty dead landscape, with nowhere for anybody or anything bigger than an insect to hide, suddenly appeared a huge flock of small brown birds that looked like sparrows.
A flock of small brown birds, at least 50 of them, were coming straight towards me and they were singing their little hearts out! They came right at me - some went over the top of me, almost brushing my hair, and the rest went to my left and to my right! I was engulfed in a cloud of singing brown birds, some flying as low as my knees.
I burst out laughing! Pure joy was flowing through me and my inner child was delighted to be in the midst of that wonderful flypast! There was no mistaking that they had come to see me!
I don't know what those other people had experienced in Albuquerque that made them say such terrible things but I can honestly tell you I had the time of my life that day.
If you visit the Volcanic Field, take a singing bowl and see how much magic you can create there! Maybe my bird friends will come to say hello to you too!
An experiential training course
Intentional Living - The Power of Choice
By Leona Thomas
In 2008 I moved in with a friend for a few months in Baluwataar, Kathmandu. The apartment was lovely - my friend had furnished everything very tastefully. But the Landlord was a bit of a shocking horror!
For example, we were allowed to use the washing machine on Sunday while his family had full access on the other 6 days. And this was fine except that my friend had gone off on her trek and when I went down to do my laundry, the Landlord and his wife arrived and began shouting at me (and it was a very small space so this was echoing seriously loudly). When I reminded them it was Sunday they were suddenly embarrassed and left me in peace. But it was not a great welcome to my new home...
I soon discovered that Prem often had things to complain about.
We would hear the doorbell ringing and we knew it was him because the bell was unhelpfully right beside our front door. The gate to our garden was always locked and there was no bell by that gate. Our friends and visitors had to either bang on the metal gate or phone us to say they had arrived. So when our doorbell rang it could only mean trouble!
Each time we heard that doorbell I would tell my friend, "I'll go!" and I would set off down the stairs.
I might not be Nepali but I had a master plan and it worked to pure perfection. Prem WAS a Nepali and a Hindu.
And I was ready for him.
I would open the door to find him standing on our step, fuming and ready for a fight. But, before he could open his mouth to speak, I would smile and say, "Good afternoon, Prem. Namaste!"
I would watch as his anger and irritation battled with the Namaste. The Namaste always won. It would interrupt the flow of whatever fight he had concocted in his head. He would attempt to speak but silence would descend upon him and within seconds he would reply, "Namaste!"
Then I would continue, "What can I do for you today?" and he would calmly tell me what was wrong.
That bell rang many times during my 2 month stay and all of our interactions were remarkably similar.
Until one fateful day...
My friend was away again on another trek in the Himalayas. And I was in a foul mood. I don't remember now what was wrong but I was so angry that the only thing that could express the energy properly was to violently slam doors shut everywhere I went! I was shouting and banging doors and still the anger was flowing.
And then the doorbell rang.
My friend was away, and anyway, it was my job to pacify Prem. But I stormed down those stairs with my rage still alive inside of me. I opened the door to find Prem standing on our doorstep.
"Yes?" I snarled.
And he let rip. "What's all that banging?" he yelled.
Then I discovered that not only was I exceedingly angry but I also could tell lies! I listened in wonder as I heard myself yell, "The windows don't fit properly! When the wind blows there's no way to stop them banging. You should fit stays!" (Technically it was true, but that was definitely not what was banging upstairs. There was no wind. And all the windows still had glass in them!).
Prem barged past me and began to climb the stairs that led to our apartment. I followed him with more anger, "And you should fit insect screens to those windows too! It's terrible! We can't leave them open without getting mosquitos in the room!" He screamed back at me...
We were stood halfway up that flight of stairs raging at each other when suddenly my anger evaporated and I found myself standing in the energy of the Namaste. Prem was still yelling. In my head I said quietly to whoever or whatever might be listening, "Please help me.."
Prem got to the end of his angry sentence and stopped abruptly. Silence descended upon the stairwell.. and we stood just looking at each other. The energy of the Namaste was palpable although neither of us had consciously invoked it.
Then Prem spoke.
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
We sat on the front door step drinking tea and chatting together for nearly 2 hours. It was wonderful. I discovered the real Prem and he was a delightful companion.
But much more than that, I had been privileged to experience a live demonstration of life with and without the Namaste.
To all beings everywhere, Hindu or not, may you be blessed to feel the power of the Namaste in your life. If you ever get the chance to come and visit Nepal you will encounter a land of many contrasts and colours and flavours. And the Namaste will be weaving its way through it all.
If this story has stirred something in your Soul
come along to
and see if your Soul is calling you to The Namaste Activation
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And then follow the instructions on the page
By Leona Thomas
My sandals had died. Even superglue could no longer help them. It was time for action.
My friend came on his motorbike to take me to Nepal Immigration so I could buy my next visa. I explained my problem and he took me shopping on the way home. He did it the Nepali way and maybe you will recognise this:
When he got to Batisputali, instead of turning right onto the dirt road that led to my home, he went straight past Dwarika Hotel and then stopped just before the junction. There was a small shoe shop there. I had told him that I wanted pink crocs. The dirt road required sensible shoes - no stiletto heals for me unless I wished to go straight to hospital!
This first shop had ugly man coloured crocs. There was no way my girly feet would accept them. I left and climbed back on to his motorbike. He went left at the Gausala junction and took me to a succession of shops. They often had fancy intricate ladies shoes that would die just looking at my uneven stony mud road! And they had ugly man coloured crocs. But there were no pink crocs to be found anywhere.
He made me cross the very busy, very wide street to a shop that had a sale on. It took 10 minutes to get across and back but I came away empty-handed.
So then we turned left at the next main junction and now we were headed into Maiti Ghar. A new street but the same results. I must have got on and off of that motorbike some 20 times and I can tell you it was tiring. And still not a pair of pink crocs in sight.
Eventually my friend said he had to get to his bank before they closed so he took me back home.
The next morning I decided to take matters into my own hands. No more doing it the normal human way. From Kathmandu to London and on to Moscow people all around the world go shopping that way. But I could remember many times when I had done it differently and I now decided to go into Leona mode. My pink crocs were going to need some magic if we were to rendezvous with each other...
I left my apartment in Leona mode.
I went to just one shop - a shop I had never seen before in my life - and I found my shoes. They were easily inside my budget and they looked and felt good.
It was magic.
And they even had a huge sign on the underneath, on the soles, that said MAGIC.
Yes I went shopping for shoes using the power of magic and I came away with a MAGIC pair of pink shoes to prove it!
Are you wearing your magic shoes today?
Do you want to know how I did it?
Would you like to be able to do that for yourself?
I am creating a training program:
Intentional Living - The Power of Choice
By Leona Thomas
I had just left my friend’s home in Casablanca when a Moroccan woman, walking directly in front of me with her son (about 5 years old), suddenly began shouting loudly and beating the boy on his head. Then she grabbed him by his hair and dragged him along behind her, all the while screaming loudly at him. I was stunned and it appeared that most other onlookers were also unable to respond. She stared across the road at the people there and she yelled at them too! Then she stormed off ahead of her little one who was sobbing his heart out and calling after her.
I wanted to pick him up and hold him in my arms. But he wasn’t mine to hold. I felt his pain, his sorrow. And immediately I directed the universe, “Please hold him in Love. Please hold him in Love.”
I felt calm descend upon me from within. I continued to slowly say, “Please hold him in Love” but then I also recognised the pain in his Mother. When she turned to shout across the road I had seen the pain in her eyes. She was crying and trying to hold something in. She wasn’t doing a great job of it! “Please hold him in Love. Please hold her in Love. Please hold him in Love. Please hold her in Love.” I followed them down the street.
She stopped shouting. Eventually she let the boy catch up and he held her hand. He was still crying. She began to complain to some women. I waited nearby. “Please hold him in Love. Please hold her in Love.” We continued walking together, now on opposite sides of a narrow street.
She stopped again just before the main road and I stopped on the pavement opposite her. I stood facing her with my heart open and my eyes upon her. I noted the fear in her eyes, the terror that was in her face. Something had triggered her and she still was not fully balanced. “Please hold him in Love. Please hold her in Love. Please hold them both together in Love.”
I let them turn onto the main road and I stayed where I was. My heart was so open and Love was all that I was. My Divine Self was fully present. I stood there with time slowed down, the sweetest Love flowing through me. People passed me, walking through my auric field, receiving the blessing directly. After about 5 minutes I also turned into the main road and met them coming back the other way. They were now both relaxed and smiling, and carrying more bags of shopping!
As I watched them turn into a side street and disappear from view, I remembered words from my Spirit Guide in 2007. He had said, “Anybody can love the peaceful child or the mellow man but can you love the one who would kill you? Can you love the one who would stab you in the back? Can you love the one who is hurting inside?”
Finally, after all these years, I can truthfully answer, “Yes, I can love the one who is hurting inside - even when I see them acting out and hurting another.”
The Angels know of the things that happened to me when I was a child. There was an incident not so different from the one I witnessed in Casablanca in the story above. Except that when the woman who was entrusted with my care grabbed my hair, she then rammed my head 3 times into a brick wall...
The Angels wish you to know that everyone who has experienced such things can come home to Love.
As you read the above true story you too were held in that field of Love. Perhaps you felt it? As you read the story, the Angels held that Love field open for all victims of abuse and for all of their abusers.
Right now they are sending that Love up and down the ancestral lines, across all dimensions and in all directions to all children and adults who have ever been victims of violence or witness to it. And to their abusers too. May Love reach all the dark corners where these memories have buried themselves, setting us free to relax and trust people again. Now and ever more. Amen.
A story written by Leona Thomas
Dust rises like smoke – drifting, disbursing, gone. Now you would never know it was there. In a few days time, if the wind blows the right way, somebody up a mountain in Tanzania will take a deep breath. They’ll inhale and say, “Ah, they’re drilling in Croix Daurade again. I smell it here today. Blessings brothers, I hope it all goes well for you! And they will sigh.
And the wind will carry that sigh to someone in a village in China who will sniff the air and whisper, “I sense your body is off balance. You have aches and pains. You should rest more. And eat more vegetables!” And that lady will laugh so loudly that she startles the nearby crows and they will rise as one, into the air, heading to the hills for peace and quiet. They will start a ripple through the air with their sudden mass migration.
Two days later a Maori in New Zealand will be walking through the bush when he will stop mid-stride and exclaim, “Why, that silly old fool has startled the crows again! It must be Thursday. She always sets them off on a Thursday. I wonder what’s different about Thursday?” And he’ll resume his walk in silence.
And the wind will keep blowing, moving onwards on its journey and, as it passes back through India, a sage on a mountaintop will smile and go to prayer pose, to Namaste, for the peacefulness carried on the wind.
And the wind will keep blowing, through the villages it will go. The women working down at the riverside will all stop their slaving, laying down the stones and the clothes. They’ll stand up and stretch out the stiffness in their backs and their joints will creak. And that peacefulness will fall upon them. They will say nothing but their eyes will meet and exhaustion will be mirrored there. They will take in the nourishment of the Namaste, standing straight and tall to allow for maximum integration. And then, as one, they will resume their washing duties – all chatter now dying away. Only the sound of the river will remain.
“I am magnificent!” it will triumphantly roar. “I am amazing! Look how fast I flow! See how I move? How amazing am I?!”
And the wind will keep blowing...
In another country a man will be in his tower preparing to call his folk to prayers when the river’s bragging will tickle his ears. “Goodness me! That river really is pleased with himself! That’s the third time this week I’ve heard him singing God’s praises. I shall sing with him today. Allah be praised!”
The man on the camel in the desert for the second day without water will hear the songs of magnificence – the prayers to Allah and the echo of the proud river – and he will feel his throat relax, somehow revived by the music in the air, by that melody of life. And as he gulps in great lungfuls of cool fresh air the wind will collect his grateful smile and will go on its way.
A mother in the forests of Russia will feel the arid heat wash over her and will fall to her knees in prayer, “Dear Lord, thank you for keeping my brother safe in the desert.” She will walk to a nearby river and drink deeply, saying, “Dear Lord, as I drink this water may all humans everywhere have their thirst quenched.” A moan will start up on the wind. And the wind will keep blowing, picking up speed, and it will split off and run in all directions.
“I have a prayer for you” it will say as it rushes through the plains of Siberia and Mongolia. “I have a prayer for you” it will say as it climbs and soars over the Alps in Europe.
Everywhere the people will stop what they are doing, just for a few moments. A child will ask, “Mummy, what is that?” And the mother will answer, “I don’t know.” The older brother will say, “I know what it is! That is the sound of love, a prayer on the breeze, travelling around the world, kissing each of us with the love from heaven and giving us a hug.” The mother will turn to look at this boy and retort, “Don’t be ridiculous! Get on with your homework and don’t talk such nonsense!” But the boy will smile and whisper softly to himself, “Oh, thank you to the kind one who has prayed for me. I was feeling so thirsty inside but now I feel full. Thank you. I can go on now. Thank you...”
The wind will scoop up his gratitude and take it to all the places on the earth and humans everywhere will cry up to the skies, “Me too!” “I feel it too!” And, even though they can see nothing, they will know something important is upon them.
As the wind picks up speed some people will notice they can see sparkling colours in the air. “Look!” they will exclaim, and babies will gurgle and clap their pudgy little hands in delight. Dogs will start running and chasing the colours and the birds will begin to sing. Soon there will be a wave of birdsong following the wind around the world, the chorus rising to a crescendo, racing over the mountains and on over the deserts and the oceans.
Fishermen off the coast of Alaska will wonder if it is the sound of mermaids, a siren song, calling them to their doom, for it is the sweetest sound human ears will ever hear.
And the wind will keep blowing. It will carry the sound of the birds’ jubilation and it will carry a warmth that has nothing to do with the rays of the sun...
Each man, woman and child will be touched deep in the heart by this miracle of love, this celebration of life. Soldiers will lay down their weapons. Husbands will stop in the midst of shouting back at their wives.
As the wind circles the planet it will loop in glorious new weave so many beautiful strands of light. And all humanity will just stop. They will stop rushing. They will stop running. They will get up from computers and televisions and come outside to see what is happening.
“Oh dear God!” a fearfully religious man in deepest Texas will say. “It’s the end of the world. Armageddon is here!” He will mark the sign of the cross before him and fall to his knees, his eyes tightly closed, bracing himself for the death strike. But all he will feel is a tender kiss. The breeze will seem to whisper “I love you” and the air will fill with the sound of angels singing. “What IS this?” he will ask in wonder...
And the wind will keep blowing, spiralling around the planet weaving grace and love, balance and peace, and sparkling light everywhere.
The Maori in New Zealand will laugh out loud. “It has started!” he will exclaim. And he will dance. His feet will beat a new rhythm and all of life will be transformed.
In another galaxy far away, a message will go out throughout their world:
“Planet Earth is alive in Love. A huge celebration is rocking the planet. At last they have come to their senses. What a wonderful day this is!”
And the wind will keep blowing - racing through back streets, around Temples and Churches, through forests and jungles, over rivers and oceans, hills and mountains. Round and round it will go, delivering its blessings far and wide to anyone who can breathe them in. “I am life!” it will whisper. “I am love.”
And the wind will keep blowing...
Every Monday a new blog entry will offer a glimpse into the magical life of Miracle Star.
Maybe it will open your eyes to a new world of possibility..
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