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In 1960, the hasty fruit of the first lovemaking of very young parents, I chose to be born in Geneva, Switzerland in a bourgeois family, complete with four grandparents who were committed to living a long happy life and cherishing their grandchildren. It was a childhood better than a princess’ despite many unconscious abuses, since the swinging sixties were blooming. When asked about what I wanted to be as an adult, I invariably answered “Be a hero and save people from drowning!” I began my training early, saving butterflies from the family pond at our mountain chalet.

As soon as I went to school, I became a very sad child. I hated to be forced to sit all day out of nature and couldn’t figure out the difficulties of relationships or the violence in the world that the first televisions were displaying. The only thing which helped was reading, and I devoured books every night, preparing myself for an adventurous life. I discovered Lobsang Rampa at thirteen, which gave me some insights, hope that ‘there was something more’ and inspired me to intensely practice distant healing.

Aged 20, I worked as a junior secretary to earn money for some long backpack travels, in particular to the United States and China when the country opened to individual tourism. But coming home and trying to fit into the mold when the happy hippie era led to silly yuppie times, I switched off completely, even failing to become a nurse because I was “too spaced out to not endanger my patients.” So, at 25, hating myself and the world, I dived into self-destruction with drugs, crazy mountain climbing, and the occasional job as an escort girl in the hope of meeting some rich guy who would save me. Eventually I met a sort of guru who was deep into power games and sexual energy virus, but nonetheless taught me about writing and – most important – that I could create my own reality.

Between periods of depression, I fought hard to become a journalist, comedienne and screenplay author, all the while feeling completely different from others. All my free time was focused on personal growth seminars, passionate discovery of Seth’s and Orin’s channelings, and renovating an old farm, together with a gorgeous but narcissistic husband whom I married “to prove my love to him,” even though I despised all artificial links, contracts and obligations.

At age forty-four, tired of journalism (always showing the worst of humanity) and burned out, I filed for divorce and left Geneva by foot to follow le “Chemin de Compostelle,” Santiago’s way. Three glorious months of meeting my Self and walking into freedom with nothing but two pants, three T-shirts and a notebook, in which I began writing The Book, a humorous French novel on life after life that would hold all my insights and become a bestseller while making people “enter joyfully in consciousness.”

At last I returned to ‘reality’ with bills to pay, a far-from-finished book, and a current boyfriend. (I do not say ‘my’ boyfriend because we decided twelve years ago that we were sovereign beings, not belonging to anybody.) Together we launched an organization for hosting conferences and seminars, inviting inspiring people from all over the French part of Switzerland to share their life changing experiences.

In 2012, a good friend told me about ‘a sexy guy channeling very provocative messages, a bit too eccentric and American for us but nonetheless interesting.’ I quickly fell head over heels into Adamus teachings. My life became complicated again. I suddenly needed a lot of time to my Self, split with my family and most of my friends and co-workers. Boyfriend wasn’t interested in Adamus, except when he could relate it to Schopenhauer or Kant, so I went into my Isis period for a long time, learning compassion for a Christine I still hated most of the time. The ‘human only’ lecturers we invited soon faded in comparison with Adamus and Saint-Germain, such that I had to stop this activity to stay true to myself. I took a leave in the mountains to finish my book.

The book was my baby (I do not have human children), and it took an entirely new direction. It was eighteen months before I was content with this story of a journalist, dying in an accident and discovering the Near Earth realms and heavenly wisdom. I spent a lot of time and money to create an attractive cover and website, and then self-published it, sending a carefully written announcement to 5,000 people who knew me. I was absolutely sure it would immediately become a tremendous success, and could see myself on top of the French charts a few months later, the book translated in twelve languages. (Maybe a few of you remember me telling that at a Threshold workshop in Tuscany, despite Adamus’ tepid enthusiasm.) I wasn’t at all prepared for what came next.

Only 50 books sold, including 10 bought by my parents (our relationships are healthy again, now that the emotional part is clear between us) and 10 by a good friend for her buddies who didn’t read it. I kept pushing it for months, organizing conferences, book signings, sending it everywhere, even selling it in the street! Nothing really worked out. The rare ones who did read my book usually enjoyed it, which comforted me with the fact that it was fine, but people simply weren’t attracted to it. I remember, just after receiving the paper version and offering it to a neighbor, he recoiled as if I handed him a venomous spider instead of a book! Once again, I fell into depression.

Now, two years later and involved with Crimson Circle more intently than ever, my experience makes sense. It was summarized by a Shaumbra friend as ‘Disappointment meets expectations,’ and so true! I had such an agenda with the book. I put so much power into its promotion, never giving the energies a chance to serve me. And also, as Adamus once said, “Shaumbra are 20 to 30 years in advance, don’t expect to be understood by muggle world.” Of course, the most important of all is that success would have distracted me from my Realization.

Since Magic of the Masters, the communion event in Bled, Slovenia last October (where I thought my Realization was effective, LOL) my dragon has been working at full capacity to clear out heavy remnants of doubt, culpability and shame, causing much sickness, pain and sadness along the way. And then, just a few weeks ago, I was invited to give a lecture in Geneva about my novel. With my recent understanding of the nature of reality, particularly through Keahak VIII, the book feels outdated to me but, since the proposal came so naturally, I agreed. Soon I found myself sharing wisdom from Adamus and Shaumbra in front of sixty upper class people.

As I spoke about death being only a transition, about past lives, reincarnation, and sovereignty, the audience looked stoned. Then came the time for questions – which was surprisingly difficult for me. People asked things like “What is consciousness?” and “If bad and good doesn’t exist, why Hitler?” If my Master spoke during the lecture, the human came back fully when I gave the answers. They seemed to come only from my mind, and I finished miserably by saying, “This is what the wise Masters say, but I’m only a human trying to understand it all.” At the end of the show, many people left without saying goodbye and I sold only two books. I went home rather depressed, cursing these great-grandchildren of those who burned Michael Servetus at the stake for far less than what I had shared, 500 years ago in the same city. I felt ashamed for not being able to let my Master speak all the way.

An exhausting self-deprecating day passed and then, the next morning, I suddenly realized with awe the courage it took to reveal myself completely in my truth in front of such judgmental people; to let my identity of ‘credible Swiss journalist’ be shattered, like the external mirror it is, and accept it as part of Realization, like everything I’ve experienced since awakening. Tears of true self-love began to flow for the first time in my life.

Today, I feel serene. Illnesses and pains are quietly receding. Little realizations trickle in, and I quietly wait for the moment body and soul will be ready for the complete one. Since an Ahmyo trip to Italy and Sicily for Christmas, I began to write again, but now only for the joy of it and without expectations. I’m currently traveling in Spain and Portugal with boyfriend and his consciousness materialized in a chameleon campervan, meeting Shaumbra here and there, and being sure that even if the money gets low, abundance still flows, because life is already unfolding far beyond my craziest dreams.

We Shaumbra really are courageous to take this crazy ride as pioneers, feeling sometimes so painfully sick and lonely. And yet, what a treat to be here at the times of machines, when we can meet at events, share together, support each other, connect through social media – and of course follow Adam-Us teachings all over the world in this modern mystery school called the Internet. My gratitude to the web and to the Crimson Circle team, the boldest of the bold, knows no limit.

Highly inspired by the books Act of Consciousness, Memoirs of a Master and Stories of the Masters, Christine is now creating short stories about awakening. Her “massion” might also lead her to write theater or screenplay for a series starring spiritual makyo versus Realization... or she might keep enjoying life and doing nothing more than spreading her radiance on park benches in summertime and cafés in wintertime. Her website is christineley.ch. Or contact her via email.

3 comments on "A Crimson Life"

  • Brenda Harley on April 21, 2019 6:55 AM said:
    Love it Christ ine 😉 your name says it all 😅 As a child of the sixties, I can so relate 🥰
  • MIKAELA on April 20, 2019 12:10 AM said:
    Thank you 🎀🎀🎀 for SHARING CARING ATTITUDE and FOR me it is True ARTfor human to go beyond our perceptions filter and limitations BUT each Time you go beyond a MAGNIFICENCE ART OF unfolding REALIZATION IS in NOW..... 🎀🎀🎀 Mikaela Kastrevc Art
  • Mabel on April 19, 2019 8:53 PM said:
    Una maravillosa experiencia, gracias

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