I have two older, wiser siblings called Master and I Am. As I prepare for my all-important journey, they are helping me pack. Or rather they are looking on as I pack my bag and not lifting a finger to help. At last I am ready to go. They stand at the door, hand me my badly packed bag and send me on my way. I thought they might come with me, but they say I should go it alone and not to come back or even call collect. “We will stay here,” they say, “but don’t expect any help from us.”
“Okay then, you selfish siblings,” I think to myself. “I’ll be just fine on my own.”
Does it feel familiar? You bravely set out on your travels but feel completely ill-equipped for the journey. These siblings might join you many years from now, but today it feels like you are never going to see them again.
As I set out, my backpack is stuffed with No Dignity, an ancestral body, my critical ‘never shutting up’ mind, a guidebook called John (my higher self), and many tattered books on spirituality. I have a little food and a little money, hoping it will be enough to survive.
In the beginning I bravely travel alone, unaware of the horrors that await. I trudge down Disappointment Lane, up Worry Avenue, past Doubt Close, over Anxiety Street along Aspect River, which looks to be full of crocodiles. Along the way I stop at Illness Motel, have several sessions at the Marriage and Divorce Bars and come out feeling utterly exhausted. I visit gurus and try various religions along the way, eventually dropping them all like discarded food containers. I read countless books, but none of them solve the problem of this journey. How do I get off it? Is it even possible to stop? Many times I have tried, but always without success.
A few years into this utterly exhausting and arduous journey, I meet a traveler who appears to be on a very similar path. I am thrilled; until now I thought I was the only one. I tell my new friend the story of how my heartless siblings, Master and I Am, abandoned me on this journey, leaving me to battle through all this on my own. Unfortunately, however, this new friend is only with me a short time before we part ways. I begin to meet other seekers on the journey, until it dawns on me that this is all they do – endlessly seek answers. I continue on my own.
One day I meet a lady. I cringe as she looks me up and down, for I have become a tramp. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for longer than I can remember, my shoes are worn out, my hair is straggly and generously sprinkled with grey. Even though I am beyond weary, I have been unable to stop my exhausting journey. We talk a while. She invites me into her house, gives me clothes, shoes, some money, medicine and food. She tells me about a group that meets every first Saturday. She gives me the address and says, “If you cannot go there, you can use an internet café and be with them in spirit by watching online.” I think it’s weird, but I’ll try it. This is the most help anyone has offered since I started out.
I have found a first aid kit by the name of Tobias. A soothing balm to my soul, he is kind, gentle, and explains a lot of things. I am still committed to my journey, but I stop every week to listen at whatever place I can find that will allow me to use their WiFi for a few hours. I notice that whenever I need to listen to these talks, money always comes out of nowhere to pay the fee at the internet café. Listening every week, I manage to catch up on all that is in the Library. It takes a long while for the first aid to start working, but I am feeling better. And then, the first aider leaves and I am left with a talking guide book called Adamus. I’m not so sure about it. This guide book is obnoxious, tells me things I cannot understand, and has an attitude. It is only the cost of damaging the internet café property that stops me from throwing the computer in the nearest dumpster.
One of the first talks he gives is called “Potentials from the Past.” After listening to it, I walk out of the internet café and what happens? I am hit by a car. In all these years of my journey, nothing this serious has ever happened to me. I wake up in a private hospital. I have my own room, free Wi Fi, a smart TV, and many broken bones. I was hit by a car driven by a wealthy man and am expected to be in the hospital for a long time.
However, I have been walking for many years and my strong bones heal fast. But this time of convalescence allows me to rest and watch TV and learn about something called the Crimson Circle and a group called Shaumbra. I watch many things. Guilt even motivates the rich man to offer to pay for something called Cloud Classes. It is a time of healing not just my broken bones but many internal wounds as well. When I leave the hospital, I have healed not just physically but also in my heart and spirit.
After listening to the irritating Adamus and finding out there was no journey, I finally stop my wandering and seeking. I settle down and find a job and a house. My job is boring, but it pays the rent. My wounds are healed, and I can buy myself a few clothes. I don’t look so much like a tramp anymore. This guide book who I cursed and gave the finger to – but somehow never missed his monthly talks – always ends his lecture with something unpronounceable. A merabh. I don’t know whether they work or not, but still I listen to Adamus, whom I don’t understand half of the time and is still extremely obnoxious.
And then the day comes. It has been 18 long years since I set off on this journey and who turns up at the door? My siblings, Master and I Am. Where have they been? I thought I would never see them again. They are complete strangers. I cannot believe we used to live in the same house. Now they move in, and once again we live under the same roof. But we’re in different parts of the house and do not communicate.
Conversations with Master are via the telephone, but when I call, the phone is put down before I can even start talking. One day I peep through the keyhole of Master’s room. It is luxurious. Master is sipping champagne and sitting in a hot tub, while here I am, living this barely-getting-by life. How dare she? I rattle and bang on the door. She comes out and tells me that I could live like this too if I simply change my perspective.
“What????” I am speechless. She says I did not need to go on any journey, but I chose to, so why am I being such a victim about it?
“What???” I say again, shocked to the core. She shuts the door in my face.
I go to the door of I Am’s room. She has her head in the clouds and does not even understand what I am talking about. “What is failure? What does disappointment mean?” It is as if we are talking in different languages.
Finally, I have arrived at my destination … sort of. My journey is over, and I know my siblings and I will learn how to get along. We live in this house called the Body of Consciousness and I am certain that someday I will get on perfectly well with these siblings of mine. I have forgiven them for letting me go off on my own. It was quite an adventure after all.
Maxine was born in England but went to Africa as a teen before returning to England after completing her training in Architecture. Her father was from Sierra Leone, her mother was born in Jamaica. She now works to help people have better quality homes in which to live. She discovered Crimson Circle in September 2015. The mother of one daughter, Maxine has travelled extensively in Europe, Western Africa and the United States. She is determined to enjoy this life cycle to its fullest extent after realization. She may be contacted via email.