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I have a few people in my vicinity that are now discovering “spirituality,” some quite fanatically so. It is not my intention to judge them in any way, as I am sure so many of us went through that phase as well. I certainly did with the same conviction of having discovered something that humanity had yet to find. So, I remain compassionate most of the time, and a little irritated at other times. No doubt I had my share of moments of irritating others with my newly found “truths,” as if I was the first to discover peanut butter.

I attended countless retreats, workshops and seminars, bought all the books, the DVDs and the t-shirts. I sought out shamans of all cultures, listened to teachers and gurus, and immersed myself into all kinds of visualizations and rituals. And I had some truly amazing experiences.

But now, while I sit at a dinner table, like an old, weathered sailor who has seen it all, listening to my friends’ spiritual retreat stories – of how they try to fix reality with affirmations and ‘mindfulness,’ or any ‘outer worldly’ experiences they may have recently had – I can only remain silent.

I do recognize myself in so many of their stories and remember having the same level of excitement. Back then, I loved bouncing stories back and forth, but now find myself totally unfazed, no longer impressed by any tales of phenomena. In fact, it bores me, because I now know it really is irrelevant to what we came here to do. It’s nothing but a bit of colorful fluff thrown in the air for a few moments of distraction.

Unfortunately, my perceived boredom doesn’t go down too well socially. I do try to be polite, smile now and then, and nod my head at random intervals. At times I see the disappointment in their eyes when I’m not as fascinated or impressed as they are with the stories they share.

There was a time when I still tried to offer some input, but soon found that there’s absolutely no point in doing so. The subtlest input from me was usually met with a strong push back or with endless explanations of why I couldn’t possibly understand. “You should at least try it. It may help you,” they would say, while I thought of Adamus’ mind blowing meta-physics classes. Other times I was met with the “Can’t compute” blank stare of a dysfunctional “Westworld” robot.

It’s not like they purposely reject or don’t want to understand what I say; it’s that they actually don’t seem to be able to hear it. They literally cannot receive it. There’s no software yet which can translate it, no means or reference point to perceive it. Therefore, it doesn’t exist in their awareness, at least not yet.

That’s when I realized that something which isn’t yet in one’s consciousness is impossible to be perceived. And also, the more conscious one becomes, the more difficult it is to explain what one knows in a language that can be understood by others who reside in a different level of consciousness.

It’s certainly not up to me to enlighten anyone, nor is it my place to say anything to change their perceptions. In fact, it’s a sense of respect that keeps me quiet, as if they were saying, “Please, let me have my own experience.” There simply comes a point in this journey where all there is left to do is sit in compassionate presence, allowing all that is.

There is nothing to do, nothing to say, nothing to fix, nothing to teach, nothing to explain.

“Be the Standard,” Adamus keeps reminding us. That’s all there is for us to do now.

Of course, this is very hard for the human ego, as it feels invisible. It wants to scream out that it’s been through it already – “I know! I understand! I’ve been there!” But it’s like you’re under a cheese bell calling out in a vacuum. And so, coming full circle now, your nouveau-esoteric friends now think you’re a closed minded, unconscious fool, stuck in non-believer land in desperate need of awakening and yoga pants.

How perfectly and utterly ironic this is.

A teacher once told me that it gets very lonely on top of the mountain. I now understand what he meant by that but tend to disagree. Things have changed. When I first stumbled across the Crimson Circle many years ago, I immediately knew that this is where we would get real and cracking! I felt an instant connection. It felt so free from any old teachings and belief systems I had previously come across – and we could finally swear to our heart’s content without anyone’s halo flying off!

But, in all these years, I had never associated myself with Shaumbra. I had experienced a lot of toxicity and power games in other groups and I simply couldn’t see myself as part of yet another group dynamic again.

However, a few months after the “Magic of the Masters” event in Bled, something suddenly expanded within. I started to sense the bigger picture and gradually realized how utterly amazing Shaumbra truly are.

Soon after that realization, I had a very vivid dream about attending a joyful Crimson Circle event. In the dream other Shaumbra called me over to sit down and pointed to a seat in the front row. A bit reluctant at first, I observed my Shaumbra aspect take a seat. Any lingering feelings of social angst were now replaced by a sense of openness, acceptance and, ultimately, integration. I realized how important it is that we have each other to bounce things off of, in order to fully understand what each of us is going through when no one else out there could. And, although we each walk our own, individual path up the mountain, like lone pioneers, we are now aware of all the others climbing up as well.

It’s not a competition about who will get there first. Rather, it’s an individual yet joined mission with the occasional shout out across the rough mountainsides – “Hey, are you ok!!?” – while looking immensely forward to meeting at the top to take in the view.

For me personally, connecting to other Shaumbra has turned out to be a continuously expanding and immensely enriching experience.

Ultimately it is a very personal choice. But I do wonder, why struggle to get up there on your own? Why not walk your own path at your own pace in your own time, but then perhaps join others on a bench for some rest, storytelling and laughter? Or perhaps walk part of the path together? Or perhaps to just ask for the occasional kick in the butt?

It can be challenging at times, as we tend to highlight each other’s blind spots, but it is so incredibly rewarding to have that connection to others going through similar challenges and experiences because, well, they understand.

And so, dear hidden ones, dear lurkers, are you ready to shout out across the mountain range? “Hey, I am over here!”


Nina grew up in Vienna, Austria and later moved to London to study Psychology, Media & Communications, and Film Production. She now lives in Vienna and is currently working on her own film projects, while also creating a little textile design business on the side. She may be contacted via email, on her website ninajfgauss.com, and on Instagram @thegaussian.