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I have always felt that theatre, long before it became a form of art and entertainment, was a tool for expanding (or realizing) consciousness. For instance, I have memories of past incarnations of my soul who attended mystery schools where acting was used as a method of teaching the mysteries: we learned about the silent observer who, like the audience, watches the act of life in full compassion and trust; we learned about the playwright who sees the big picture of his or her creation and makes conscious choices; we learned about the unconscious actor, who like the human, is so often controlled by the strings of their ego and the scripted conditioning of their surroundings. Through theatre we learned to step in and out of different perspectives and dimensions of the Self. Of all the different art forms, acting is the one that uses the technique of embodying the most. Theatre shows us the art of making a creation, and then stepping into it and embodying it – with the knowingness that one can always step out again. When we consciously act a role, we realize how transient all roles are, including the role called ‘identity.’ We learn that we can create, transform and release any identity simply through choice.

The first time I felt true freedom and liberation in this lifetime was through acting. I studied drama (both academically and extensively in my personal relationships!), but never had the energy required to become a professional actress – after all, I was quite occupied with the act of the awakening human. So much effort in this lifetime has been spent on the most dangerous question of all: Who am I? The quest, or rather obsession, to find my true identity was all-consuming. Although I pretended that my agenda was purely spiritual, it was also a matter of trying to fit into society, because as a teenager I noticed how everybody around me seemed to have neatly defined identities. Perhaps not all of them were nice identities, but at least they were contained. Their consciousness was contained within clearly drawn outlines. Compared to them, I was all over the place. Like watercolors, my consciousness simply spilled over the clear lines and boxes that I tried to squeeze it into. I tried countless boxes, and other shapes too, for any identity was better than no identity, I thought. But I never found the one identity that would buy me a neat square on the checkered field of society.

I thought that awakening was about finding my lost identity, which I assumed to be singular. Obviously, that was pre AND-era. When I finally realized that I would never have a singular identity again, I initially felt a deep sadness. After all, having an identity was so very human. As it turned out, this lifetime was about releasing the attachment to all my past identities and even the need to have an identity in the first place. Since I like to release stuff through crying, you can imagine the amount of tears that I shed. After a rather long period of sadness, I allowed myself to feel into the AND: I am the actor who experiences and embodies the feelings of the human, and I am the playwright who creates the script, and I am the ever-present Soul who sees and loves every one of those creations, no matter how awkward they might be. As so often is the case, the release was accompanied by relief: Giving up the quest for the lost identity means that I can now spend my time in the sensual and sensory experience of life, rather than incessantly defining, analyzing and justifying who I am.

In a recent Shoud, Adamus describes aspects as stories in the Book of Life. He also said (in slightly different words) that the common thread running through all those stories and lifetimes – often hidden between the lines – is love. Much like the heart muscle that is pumping blood through the veins of the body, love is a mysterious, constant rhythm pumping life-force and oxygen into my stories. For no matter how different all the aspects and lifetimes are, every single one of them is a story of love. The irony is that so many of these aspects have been fighting on the battle fields of power, simply because they were (unconsciously) fighting for love, trying to conquer and to acquire love like they had learned to conquer and acquire everything else in life. And love, the infinite and always present radiance of the soul, has patiently been waiting to hand that love over to the human, who was too busy to notice anything that wasn’t attacking or manipulating her.

But a curious thing happens when true love enters the scene: The lines get blurred. I notice how my light and my darkness are blending into each other a little bit more with every passing day, how the lines between my Isis and Adam are melding; even the lines between lifetimes are pouring into each other. I never found my one identity, because the destiny of this lifetime was to blur the lines. As messy as it appeared, it was eloquently designed by soul.

What’s happening on the stage of my current life is that I’ve been procrastinating writing the last words of my Book of Life, because I wasn’t ready to let go of the love. Subconsciously I thought that writing ‘the end’ means the end of love. Then I realized, that even if I set all the stories free, the part of them that is truly mine will always remain part of me. In fact, I’ve noticed that many of those aspects want to finish the story; they are waiting for permission to die, to be released from the shackles of their own repetitiveness. For many of these aspects, death is not a dark, fearful horror story, but a liberation that they have been desperately waiting for. A liberation that will create the space necessary for true love to appear.

Sometimes when my human has one of its very serious moods (like when I’m integrating a particularly stubborn aspect), I can hear my master-self bursting into laughter, much like an audience who sees the comical elements of the play and cannot take the temporary drama on the stage very seriously. The master-self may laugh at the ridiculous intricacies of the human act, but the reason why the master is so relaxed about life is that she is in her safe space. In that safe space where she knows that each and every act of the human is deeply loved, and the comedy (or tragedy?) lies in the fact that the human so stubbornly insists on ignoring this love. The comedy lies in the human insisting that her life is a tragedy, while the master looks at that same life and sees a brilliant work of art, a design of incredible beauty and detail and consciousness.

So here I am, in the midst of my final act, while my master-self is sitting in the front row crunching popcorn, raucously applauding the excellent acting skills of the human, while my human is wondering if it is truly worthy of the love of soul. Said soul is standing at the side of the stage, with a huge bunch of roses and an even bigger smile, because she truly is my biggest fan. As I’m trying to find my balance here on the stage, I’m struck by awe at the design of this multi-dimensional spectacle. Who would have thought that all of this mess and silliness would turn out to be the grandest love story of all?

Theatre is such a wonderful metaphor for what we are going through as we realize our freedom, but it is also great fun on an actual stage. Together with a few Shaumbra friends, I have co-created the Royal Shaumbra Theater Company, and we are staging our first play in Munich this June. If you would like to connect with me, please visit my website:

2 comments on "Before the Curtain Closes"

  • Bogusława M. Zapotoczna on April 10, 2017 3:03 AM said:
    Dziękuję za wspaniały artykuł. Głęboko mnie poruszył. Ja trzymam zewnętrzną miłość i wiem, że to ostatni krok. Czytając Twój artykuł poczułam wewnętrzną zgodę na uwolnienie wszystkich zewnętrznych miłości, w końcu. Pozdrawiam serdecznie :)
  • Gilliam on April 3, 2017 8:39 PM said:
    I so feel at home reading your article. Thank you for sharing and a thousand applauses.

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