Easter, Resurrection and Ascension

Early in 2006 I had a dream which said that I would receive essential information about my life purpose in ‘Easterland’. This would entail remembering Polynesian-Lemurian lifetimes. So alerted, I sensed a connection when I learned that Drunvalo Melchizedek was leading a group to Easter Island and French Polynesia early in 2008.

This journey would mark the culmination of a series of healing journeys which he had led over recent years. Its purpose was to clear final traces of human ancestral wounding and  make possible the final activation of a Christ Grid to help humanity overcome limitations of separation consciousness and ascend back to a level of unity consciousness we enjoyed before the ‘Fall’ of Atlantis.

Drunvalo’s mythic account tells how construction of this grid was begun by Ascended Masters 13,000 years ago in a bid to reverse the disastrous implications of the destruction of Atlantean civilisation. This destruction was precipitated by the controlling tendencies of Martian colonists who settled there following the devastation of their planet by war.

Warfare was endemic on Mars because its inhabitants lacked an ability to feel. They were thus unable to empathise. Vastly outnumbered by the feeling-centred natives of Atlantis, themselves mostly immigrants from Lemuria, the Martians were initially obliged to curb their warlike ways. When the continent was threatened by a falling comet, they allowed themselves to be over-ruled after they had proposed shooting it out of the sky.

The comet struck Atlantis in precisely the area where the Martian colony was situated, inflicting heavy casualties. Outraged and aggrieved, the survivors resolved never again to be influenced by ‘feminine’ counsel. They undertook to build a synthetic Merkaba device which would permit them to take control of the entire continent.

Sadly, they made mistakes. Their Merkaba went out of control and ripped the fabric of multi-dimensional reality, causing not just physical devastation but also a breaching of boundaries required to keep dimensions apart. As a result, Earth was shocked to her core (1D), elementals were displaced from the telluric worlds (2D) and the destruction of 3D Atlantis was assured.

Earth’s magnetism was also severely disrupted, causing a total loss of human memory. This ‘fall’ from knowledge of our origins and promise was so severe that the Ascended Masters feared we might not be able to recover in time to participate with awareness in Earth’s next great transformation which was due 13,000 years later, or now. To assist us they undertook to build the Christ Grid mentioned above.

The Northern, male pole of this grid rises in a spiralling wave from the Giza Plateau in Egypt. It spreads to encompass the entire globe at a height of approximately 60 miles above Earth’s surface. It is essentially a 4th dimensional form, projected out of one consciousness. However, its structure is also reflected on Earth’s surface by a spiralling pattern of 83,000 primary sites, natural and built.

This network of sacred places gives 3D expression to the Masters’ grid and was intended to help us regain unity consciousness before Earth’s next great transformational cycle. Purpose-built temples, especially, were used as teaching centres from which Masters and  adepts sought to cultivate in humanity a remembrance of our nature as we knew it prior to the ‘fall’.

By the end of the 20th century, the 4D grid was essentially complete, safely in advance of the ‘2012’ transformational deadline predicted by Mayan and other native prophecies. All that remained was to clear its Earthly aspect of distortions incurred through a history of human violence since Atlantis. Many people have been working to assist this process in recent times, as the potentials of new consciousness began to seep into awareness.

Drunvalo is one such. His guidance indicated that the 4D Grid was ready to be anchored into Earth at its southern, female pole on the tiny island of Moorea. This lies at the heart of Polynesia-Lemuria and is directly opposite Giza on the globe. Just one final wave of healing to do with alienated warrior consciousness needed completing beforehand.

I knew from my dream and from many other things which had arisen that I needed to be part of this journey. It was also clear that C, my partner, following the ‘descent’ of recent illness, should travel to ‘Easterland’ and complete her resurrection before ascending in embodied form to the clarity of feminine Christ consciousness. We signed up early and kept faith with our appointment through the long, arduous months of her ordeal.

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Easter Island or Rapa Nui is in the Pacific Ocean, over two thousand miles from Chile, Tahiti and New Zealand. It is the most remote human settlement on Earth. In my imagining, it has always been a pivotal location, a portal through which life streams into Earth from unseen dimensions. My actual knowledge of it was minimal and romantic: scenes of rugged beauty, wild horses, sheer cliffs, volcanic craters, pounding waves and mysterious gargantuan statues called moai.

In retrospect I know that my ‘eternal boy’ was mesmerised by the allure of sprinting its sharp ridges, exploring volcanoes and being generally unrestrained. Thus I exercised regularly in the weeks prior to our departure. Then, ten days before we were due to leave, my right calf became very painful for no apparent reason, making it difficult for me to walk, much less continue my wild boy regime.

This condition persisted right up to the time we left. I had no option but to be feminine and meditate. I also read Drunvalo’s books including the recent ‘Serpent of Light’. This describes a series of healing journeys of which ours was to be the culmination. It tells of heroic travels over many years: including visits to sacred sites, meeting indigenous elders and conducting ceremonies to bring healing to our human past and make way for Earth’s transition into a new Sun of higher consciousness.

My experience of this book was ambivalent. On the one hand, it was an enthralling spiritual adventure, full of episodes that resonated deeply with my innermost yearnings; and yet the very extent of this affinity made the book disturbing for me. It felt as if this admirable man had stolen a life I might have dreamt for myself, using up the blueprint of my Heart’s Desire.

Also, according to Drunvalo, the story is substantially complete, so that little remains for those coming late to the scene. My boyish self was now doubly frustrated. Recognising elements of projection in this, I allowed those parts of me which felt cheated to surface into my Heart in search of peace. These parts had never found recognition or expression and reacted in pique when a stage for their fulfilment seemed to have been withdrawn.

My discontent eased as Heart integration took place but I needed to be very thorough, which meant waiting, waiting and more waiting. Eventually I was clear. Then, with all these childish parts brought up to date, I was ready to face the intriguing challenge and opportunity of meeting Drunvalo in 3D. This prospect now felt more exciting than I could have imagined. We boarded our train for Paris in a spirit of high adventure.

Next morning, breakfasting in a sidewalk café, we enjoyed the superficially chaotic but deeply harmonious dance of Paris’ vibrant, multi-cultural society. It struck me that a new type of unity consciousness is being forged in Europe’s former colonial capitals, where different peoples are slowly learning better ways of dealing with each other. Later, we heard a mixed choir sing paeans to the stars in the church of Sacre Couer. My soul rose through a high dome on their song, pulsing with anticipation.

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My first engagement with Drunvalo was on a bus from the airport on Easter Island to our hotel. I asked him questions about a recent journey he had made. He answered in a clear, straightforward manner. From this brief interaction, I see that he is pure and focused in his Heart. His unselfconscious clarity models an ideal I would gladly emulate. I understand better why childish tendencies to self-comparison had to be clarified before I could appreciate such a mirroring of true Child energies.

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We set out early on our first morning to greet the sunrise at Ahu Tongariki, a huge platform by the ocean where fifteen giant moai face inland. They look eerie and spectral in the dark. We choose our positions to greet the sun. I kneel before these great stone beings and am immediately drawn into their world. Their presence is so overwhelming that I can only commune with them individually. This feels appropriate, since the faces are clearly individualised.

Closing my eyes, I engage the spirits of local ancestors, I assume those specifically represented. Then I feel others coming in, still of island lineage. Without thinking, I somehow know that erection of the moai was originally inspired by appreciation of the role of ancestors generally and, behind that again, by a keen sense of human origins and purpose. The imprint of this awareness permits the moai to serve as gateways for all ancestors who would engage our dimension, given due occasion.

This realisation is intuitive, not explicit. I know only that I am fulfilling a lifetime passion by kneeling as I do and communing with these beings, whose aspect continually deepens and shifts with my regard. The more I attend to them, the more readily they respond. They become portals through which blessings from other realms flow upon all who address them with love. I do so spontaneously now, as if honouring an old appointment.

There is no effort. My consciousness is progressively raised as I am drawn ever further into a reverie which unfolds in stages, each at once coherent and non-logical. After the cycle of honouring focused on local ancestors, a new wave breaks into awareness. This represents the consciousness of primal peoples, who seek to remember who they are, where they come from and what they are for. Implicit in this is the memory of my own ancestors, genetic and spiritual.

Back of this again, a communion with universal ancestors arises. In retrospect, I see two strains within this. The first refers to all ancestors as the ancestors of all, in the sense that we all ultimately derive from shared ancestors. The second refers to ancestors from all over the universe (and Cosmos), star beings whose awareness breaks upon me in the course of my reverie. They are multi-dimensional, as I am, converging aspects of One Self, drawn towards an imminent celebration of remembered unity.

There is no mental exchange at any point. Our communion is entirely of the Heart. It unfolds without issue or resistance in an unbroken stream of unconditional love where the intensity of my yearning is matched by the clarity of ‘their’ response. Even to describe it so is misleading since it implies a duality of experience that was utterly transcended in an ecstasy of rediscovered unity. Ancestors of the future also attend, drawn by the passion of my Heart.

I am illuminated in waves as this occurs and have to keep grounding each time I try to stand before moving from one statue to the next. Each admits a different quality of inspiration before it assimilates to an expanding sphere of bliss I feel around me. I sense that many star beings are now engaged, activating elements of soul-sensibility which I carry. I gather that it is my task to let these find a cogent synthesis within me.

I do not think such thoughts – or any thoughts – as I pass before the statues, which seem to come alive in the early light. At one point, opening my eyes, I see the sun rise between two moai and feel heat as its rays fall upon me. When I reach the end of the platform, I make a final round of salutations. Then, thanking the ancestors, I walk back towards the group, most of whom are having breakfast near the entrance to the site.

I feel radiant, expansive and unbound. I am only now seeing where we are, in daylight. Suddenly I am aware of the ocean calling. Such has been my attention to the moai that I forgot her! Joyfully I step on a low wall and see her glistening in strong light. My Heart is bursting with recognition when a sharp voice yells at me to get down. I am violating the sanctity of the altar. This awareness returns me to the human world.

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Later, Drunvalo outlines the agenda for our journey. He explains how, as part of her impending consciousness shift, Earth’s kundalini – which originates at her core – has recently shifted its surface location from the Himalayas to the Andes, effectively taking the focal point of humanity’s spiritual awareness with it. This development also implies a shift away from a male-centred into a female-centred spirituality.

He says this relocation is now complete and describes how Earth’s magnetic fields are also shifting, probably ahead of a pole shift. Other apparently destructive but actually creative Earth changes – like chunks of California falling off – are due to happen soon according to Mayan prophecy. Staying in our Hearts will keep us from falling into fear as these changes begin and receptive to guidance which will ensure our safety.

Benito, our Island guide, says that the moai are examples of what people do when we are inspired. Such has been my conviction all morning. We swim later at Anakena. I learn there that C also has been beautifully inspired. Floating in the ocean’s warm embrace, I know I have never felt so totally held. I recall Drunvalo saying that we can never achieve unity through the mind and agree.

After lunch we have an ‘introductions’ circle where I say that I had to be on this journey. Later I wonder ‘Why?’ It is clear that what Drunvalo says will happen through pure love and intent on Moorea could happen without me, so that is not the source of my necessity. On the contrary, I sense that some kind of personal commissioning will arise for me out of the completion of Drunvalo’s task.

Later we visit Rano Raraku, the volcanic mountain from which the moai were carved. Benito tells how they were inspired by a dream of the island’s first king. They were so big, in fact, that no one knew how to move them until the chief priestess told the king that she knew a chant which would cause the stones to ‘walk’ to their appointed places. The king learned this sacred chant and together the two sang the moai into position.

Benito’s account feels truer to me than exoteric speculation that the stones were rolled on logs from volcano to coast. This ‘rational’ line usually also suggests that rival clans, eager to outdo each other in terms of quantity and scale, felled all the island’s trees in a competitive frenzy that led to ecological catastrophe. This imputes excessive blindness to the native population but there is a quintessential poignancy around the area which relates to why this island is the final stop on Drunvalo’s healing circuit.

Exploring, we find dozens of moai in various stages of completion. Some appear to be half-standing, frozen in the act of getting up. One, incredibly, reclines horizontally in the mountainside, as if asleep on a built-in bed. I am moved to see how radically of Earth these beings are, and how imbued with stirrings of divinity. There is much inspiration here, mingled with evidence of tragedy. It is clear that work on the moai ceased abruptly and, with it, a whole phase of the island’s civilisation.

My sense is that scarcity, perhaps precipitated by an Ice Age, induced conflict which undermined inter-tribal coalitions fostered by the first king’s dream. The toppling of ‘rival’ moai by disintegrated clan groups entailed a weakening of links with the ancestors, stellar and terrestrial. As elsewhere, initiates struggled to preserve cosmic vision in the midst of such cultural decline.

Afterwards, when a society ordered around the uniting function of divine kingship was no longer viable, a Birdman cult (see below) arose as a mechanism to restore social bonding beyond the limits of particular clan groupings. The Tapati Festival serves this purpose even now. Abandoned, the birthplace of the moai can also be seen as a cemetery. There is an absence here of connecting energies that arose easily at Tongariki earlier today.

These statues were never sung alive! The culture lost the inspiration to do so, or even to raise those toppled in conflict. And yet, I feel, the ancestors would have us learn again their resurrection songs. It is for this reason, to do with devastation of a once abundant, microcosmic Eden, that we have come; to heal humanity’s ‘original sin’ – that ‘Fall’ for which we, like abused children everywhere, unconsciously assumed guilt.

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Next morning I ask Drunvalo if he still holds the dream of Earth ascending without the loss of a single soul (as expressed in his Flower of Life books). I ask because in ‘Serpent of Light’ he anticipates that there will be far fewer people on Earth by 2012. I understand in asking that it’s not possible for a soul ever to be really ‘lost’. Knowing that Drunvalo knows this, I wonder why he now thinks that a peaceful transition is no longer possible.

He tells me that everything is perfectly held in God and that it isn’t possible to get lost. He is concerned that I am worried for my own sake. I assure him that this isn’t so and that I understand fully what he has just said. Is it not, despite this, possible to prepare for transition in such a way that effects of panic and forgetting might be wholly curtailed? He says that this has already been accomplished before being distracted by his manager.

I know there is a teaching in this. He may not have understood me. I may not have put my questions well. Why would my soul create this experience? To show that unity can never be achieved through the mind! My inspiration has been to adhere clearly to a dream of universal, peaceful Ascension despite all the practical wisdom and intelligence of the world. This dream is borne in my Heart, where its truth is not subject to negotiation.

Remembering my need for clarity after reading ‘Serpent of Light’, I see that I am being reminded to stay in my Heart in relating to Drunvalo. There is no need to put the integrity of my dream in question, nor even to refer it to an authority like his. Seeing this is necessary for my individuation. Whatever is to happen between us can unfold from now in divine order, without need of push or pull. I feel clearer upon realising this awareness in my self.

Afterwards we hike to Ranu Kao, a volcano with a big lake in its crater. We are so jaded from the heat that our planned walk to Orongo never happens. (Orongo is at the far end of the crater, easily accessible from here. It is the primary site of the ‘Birdman’ cult which arose after production of the moai ceased.) This is a place I had thought I would like to visit, skirting hairline ridges and vertiginous cliffs which Birdman candidates would scale down before braving sharks and swimming to a nearby island to return with the first tern’s egg of a new year. The winner’s sponsor would then become king for that year.

In the event, I am content to lie in the sun. Benito tells a story about an old man who grew four bananas with great difficulty in the crater long ago. Then a young man came, got very hungry and ate one. Old Man is enraged and imprisons Young Man, who can’t understand the severity of his punishment. He explains this to another youth who comes by later, saying that he could easily cover the entire crater floor with bananas. Put to the test, he proves as good as his word.

This, I surmise, is a story about how we tend to favour ‘sweat of my brow’ scenarios and so imprison divine tendencies towards effortless manifestation and natural abundance. I wonder why Benito is telling it now. Maybe it concerns the difference between singing giant statues to the coast and dragging them there. I also reflect on the persistence of my initially enforced (through phantom injury) laid-back, feminine receptivity. This seems to be how Spirit wants me on the island. I certainly don’t feel like ‘doing’ much.

That afternoon, we find a shady place and prepare for the ceremony that will bring healing to the ancestors of Easter Island, thereby making it possible for the newly positioned Serpent of Light to begin radiating energies out to the Pacific area. Guidance received that morning, Drunvalo says, has revealed how the ceremony is to happen.

We will first journey in consciousness up to the Christ Grid and stay a while there before drawing it down to the island with an intention of bringing healing to all ancestors here in a spirit of pure loving forgiveness. We may also bring healing to our own ancestors and those from other parts of the world to which we are drawn. We will then let go of the ancestors and return the grid to its original position.

Drunvalo leads us in a Heart meditation. I am moved to follow my own course, opening a vertical axis from the Christ Grid through my Heart down into the Heart of Earth. My Inner Heart is immediately filled by a Child, around 9 months old. A Pink Heart forms around the vertical axis of my being and draws the Grid down. Ireland is the only country to which I am called. Healing happens easily and the Grid is released. Drunvalo expresses surprise at the ancestors’ lack of resistance. His manner has been very soft throughout.

My ancestors come through in dreaming that night, saying that they don’t want to be ‘let go’. We have tended to their wounds, they say, now it is time to remember their gifts. I mention this to R, a Maori elder, the next day and we arrange to discuss it later. In the event, no opportunity arises and I am reminded of my failure, or lack of need, to talk with Drunvalo. Also, my ‘questions’ don’t unfold as I might have imagined.

Next morning we visit the Rapa Nui Cultural Museum. My attention is drawn mainly by a map of the ‘Polynesian Triangle’, featuring New Zealand and Easter Island as its base points and Hawaii as its apex, with Moorea at its heart. Viewing the clear expanse of the Pacific, it is easy to remember Lemuria as a water continent, once comprised of many islands now submerged.

Our next stop is Ahu Vinapu, a unique site in Polynesian culture because it features very precise stonework on a large scale, similar to that of the Incas. Apart from one section of wall, the physical site is a ruin, jealously guarded by locals. Despite this, Benito invites us to explore it, asking only that we don’t touch the stones. Accepting his invitation, I find a place to kneel but am chased out by D.

I retire completely from the physical site and attune to vibrations of a ‘crystal city’ which Benito had also mentioned. This is an amazing light structure, evidently built to facilitate high frequency beings on journeys into our dimension. That such a structure remains marks the island as still being a distinctive portal.

My reflection is cut short by the arrival of another visiting group with a vociferous leader who herds D and friends off sacred ground, demanding to know if our guide has not explained about the island’s patrimony. Our group responds in stages; some promptly, others not. There is no opportunity to explain that we are the ‘world group’ foretold by prophecy or that our guide is the island’s spiritual leader.

One of our number explains tearfully that we were shown the site from the other side, where the flat boundary stones can’t be seen. The new guide is dismissive. The last of us departs after a sharp exchange. To me, kneeling well beyond all visible remains of the island’s patrimony, it seems that there is an element of chaos at play. I try returning to the crystal city but its energies have been ‘cut’. It is still there, but less forthcoming.

Rather than court it anew, I am conscious that there must be some reason for our ‘chaos’.  Drunvalo has completed his mission on the island and withdrawn from public leadership of the group. Today, Benito was torn between introducing us to the site and his obligation to a film which is being made about our journey. These are superficial reflections and not complaints. Our souls have co-created this situation. Why?

Mindful that my ancestors have asked not just to be let go, I again sense some incipient mission taking shape. This, for me, will arise from the platform of Drunvalo’s journey rather than being fulfilled by it. I think ‘chaos’ is creating space for us each to find our own trajectories. My attention is then grabbed by a voice calling stragglers to the bus.

We go next to Akahanga, burial site of the first king, he who dreamt the moai. Benito says it takes 3 or 4 hours to attune to the energies of this place. D says we have a half hour max. I ‘sign in’ energetically to the stones and draw their vibrations into my Heart for later decoding. The group scatters. C and I sit by the ocean till we are called.

We return that night to Ranu Kao volcano for a star meditation. The sky is beautifully clear after earlier rain. The stars are generous and bright. It’s wonderful to behold them so intimately in this southern hemisphere. I lie out, calling their energies into my being. Some of us play with a star-naming laser device. Others ask Drunvalo for a story. I fall asleep to new tales of old Egypt. When I wake up, the starry manifold is more glorious than ever. Drunvalo says there is nothing we need do to make things better.

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We start at noon the next day in view of our late night. Our first stop is for lunch in a shaded wood. While there we discover a mare whose hind leg has been badly snared in barbed wire. She is cut to the bone and seems likely to die without assistance. She is accompanied by a foal who won’t leave her. The mother refuses water. The foal tries to nurse and eats grass. I am told that this means the mother is ready to die and the foal able to survive without her.

People who know about horses try to approach but the wounded mare keeps backing away. Benito advises that the islanders won’t intervene and that the owner is likely to sue if we do. Drunvalo explains this to the group, since some don’t know the situation. It has been decided to leave water and notify the owner. B, hearing this for the first time, goes to the horse and initiates a new attempt at healing. Most of the group gathers in support and the mother is eventually released, her wounds washed clean.

I am guided to sit apart as this happens. Once away, I know our efforts will be successful and that the Mother is teaching us by means of this apparent diversion. Specifically, she reminds us to focus our compassion on particulars within the vast drama of our journey and the lofty scope of last night’s meditation.

It also strikes me that, at one crucial moment, leadership of the group seemed (only) to shift from Drunvalo. There was no competition here: just an example of aware humans acting with integrity to assume power fluidly in a situation that required this. Drunvalo has completed his mission on the island. The rest of us, or some of us, have not. When one person acts in integrity, nobody who aspires to do likewise is upset; rather we are inspired. I feel grateful to B for his example.

We travel next to Te Pito Te Hana, the ‘navel of the world’. We gather by the ocean around a large spherical stone which Benito says is ‘from another continent’. It carries a high magnetic charge and is ringed by four smaller stones inside a low wall. These mark the cardinal directions. Benito asks our leaders to sit on the small stones, lay their brows against the central sphere and spread their hands so that their fingers touch.

He asks them to stay in this position for three or four minutes, then raise their hands, still touching, before bringing them back to their solar plexus and relaxing. He then asks them what they felt. All respond with some variation of ‘good’. Benito regrets that there is not enough time for us all but notes that we have helped a mother and her child, which is more important. He invites us to try briefly nonetheless.

I am one of the next four to enter, taking up position at the north pole. We lean on to the sphere, fingers touching as directed. Immediately riveted, my consciousness is drawn into the stone. I hear a ‘birth song’ and sense a powerful energy swaying loosely, like a fallen power line. This line attaches to my brow, which swings like a foetus in an egg-shaped sac at the loose end. The other end is fixed at the centre of Earth.

The poignancy of my ‘birth song’ increases and the encased foetus abruptly dissolves, leaving a unitary consciousness field with one powerful energy pulsing through it. I am advised that from now on, for purposes of this lifetime, I must act as if my soul had been born from the centre of Earth. We are asked to close shortly after, raising energy up as before, then relaxing back into our selves. My experience has been so intense that I need to breathe deeply through the time we are allowed to integrate it.

We are not questioned and leave the circle. Drunvalo asks me what I experienced. I try to tell him but something happens. He seems unable to hear or loses interest. I find that I am talking to myself and stop. By now, this is no surprise. While appreciating that in former times being ignored by a respected mentor might have felt devastating, the episode makes no impact on me now. I stay easily in my Heart and retire to a rock by the ocean to digest my experience.

My ‘birth song’ has a gently haunting quality. It suggests rebirth for one who is already born. The dissolving foetus suggests an end to separation consciousness and a birth of Unity consciousness. This is animated by a Serpent of Light, Earth’s kundalini, rooted at her centre, from which my soul must be reborn. I read later that the spherical stone was said by the ancients to connect into the Womb of Earth and feel exhilarated.

None of these reflections are deliberate. They rise into awareness from my soul. I note them gratefully and wait. It strikes me that my soul’s Earth-centredness contrasts markedly with Drunvalo’s remote origins. (He tells in ‘Serpent of Light’ of having come in from the 13th dimension.)  What can this mean? Only our Hearts may tell. I have been conscious of my own star connections since our sunrise morning at the moai.

At that moment, V asks me if I will re-enter the circle with her and two others. Having checked to see if this might be excessive, I agree and go to its south pole, opposite where I sat before. This time I don’t receive messages but rather experience a slow reversal of north-south magnetic polar energies inside me. I kneel afterwards to integrate this shift, not knowing what it might entail. I feel rebalanced by the time we get back to the bus.

That night I have a dream set in a hospital. A ‘birthing’ is due to take place. My uncle J waits in a line of people sitting on chairs and is called forth. A Fool is born of my Mother in that moment.

Uncle J is fondly disregarded in my family as a ‘fool’ – as eccentric, unpredictable, error-prone and likely to grasp the wrong end of every stick. He also carries energies of the sacred clown, which are close to my primary archetype: the Fool, who jumps in where angels think again. His attributes of innocence and childlikeness come of being centred in the Heart. These qualities are vital to fulfilment of my daytime vision. I can expect all my ‘Fool’ potentials to be called forth – reborn of the Mother – as a result of this journey.

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Next morning most of us are scheduled to go horse-riding. C rests and I go to visit sacred caves with Benito and a small group.  At our first stop, Bentio explains how priest/esses of old used to scan the stars and by this means become aware when a new wave of special children was about to be born. These ‘divine messengers’ were taken at birth and trained to become priest/esses of the future. Benito showed us where these children would be taken to meet their parents at age 7.

Identified by marks assigned at birth, they were ushered forward to be embraced by their father and mother, once only. The parents would then share a specially prepared meal, a feast to celebrate them and their children. This ceremony was attended by the king, island chiefs and senior priest/esses. It was a great honour for parents to produce such a child.

I feel an uncanny sense come over me as Benito speaks. I know before he tells us that these children were raised in darkness, being exposed only to enough light to stop them going blind. I make an involuntary sign which Benito acknowledges, perceiving my altered state. I ask how the children were fed and what physical contact, if any, they received. He says he will discuss these matters with me in private.

Later, he points out the plant on whose sap the children were fed. Others take up my earlier question about physical contact. Relenting, Benito says that such children received ‘the highest form of love’ but were touched only by the High Priest or High Priestess, who had attained self-mastery. This was done to protect their emotional bodies? Yes. Do such practices continue today? Only in modified form, and within families.

So special children continue to be born on the island? Yes, as in all parts of the world. Have any of the current generation already been born? Yes. This youngster is in Benito’s charge and likes to connect with the Pleiades. Is he a returning ancestor? Benito hesitates before replying ‘Yes’. I know in that moment that I am also, despite having come late to the island. Benito sees this too.

We move deeper into the ‘Cave of Noises’, where young initiates shared a reunion party with their parents. After a little warming up, we sound in darkness, reactivating ancient memory fields by which we are surrounded. My song reaches into the Heart of Earth, then rises via outstretched arms up to the Heart of Heaven. A vertical axis shoots up and down my spine, linking these worlds. I remember all who have filled this space before us. In doing this I also remember something essential of my self.

Later we visit Ahu Akiva, an inland site with seven moais positioned to face the direction from which ‘they’ came. These statues commemorate star beings who had arrived long before to prepare a way for the first king. They were constructed 1,000 years after these ancestors had returned to the stars. For this reason, Ahu Akiva is the only altar on the island where no bones are buried. I would love to stay longer and connect with them but there is no time. I know then that I must come to this island again.

The last place we visit is a coastal cave in which three light beings still dwell. Benito asks three people with cameras to enter first and see if they can record images. I don’t know if they succeeded. The light beings have withdrawn by the time I go in but their energies remain. They feel to me like Guardian spirits, protectors of the island and its heritage, particularly in the aftermath of catastrophe. I feel particularly the energy of a brutal slave raid that took place in 1862, when over 2,000 islanders – including the king and all but one of the priesthood – were abducted to Peru. Survivors who were eventually repatriated brought smallpox, and another wave of devastation, with them.

For such a small, concentrated community to sustain such losses is almost unimaginably traumatic. That the culture could survive at all suggests great resilience and unswerving inspiration. This cave, I feel, is a primary source of the latter. These reflections lead into a healing meditation which focuses the anguish of those times. I don’t process this but call it into my Heart, having opened a link through the Point of Creation into the Void. From here I call forth energies to clarify and renew. Trembling, I feel Divine Love entering the cave.

For several minutes, energies of Pure Creation flow into this space. I ask that they assist the light beings to guide the island during coming times of change. Then I call all affected by the slave raid into my Heart, praying that they also might be clarified and renewed as appropriate by energies of Source rising through me. In the midst of this, I hear Benito call for one of us to lead a meditation. I am already engaged.

I know on leaving the cave that I have barely touched the surface of all that this island holds for me. I understand that I must return here, having completed a series of twelve journeys to prepare. This thought consoles me as we drive back to the hotel, following our last guided interaction with this mystically charged ocean oasis.

That night, I wonder why island culture would risk exposing young initiates to that once-only meeting with their parents. I regret not having asked Benito and go to sleep with the question on my mind. I wake up knowing that the youngsters were allowed to meet their parents ‘so they could embrace human imperfection and find beauty in it’.  This is why so many former initiates now live ostensibly ordinary lives (remote from temples etc.): to embrace human imperfection fully and, transmuting, make beauty of it.

                                                                     *

The next day is spent packing and preparing to depart. I tell R, my Maori friend, that I have not forgotten our appointment. She seems easy, while I have come to realise that my ancestors are not concerned with reviving cultural content, at least for now. Rather I am asked to admit a lack created by the erosion of Gaelic culture and a power of passionate yearning which comes to me as a result. This passion can be brought to other lands and expressed there to help open doors which for whatever reason have stayed closed.

Before our departure, Drunvalo tells us that the elders on Moorea are expecting us. They know our mission and will take us to a sacred place where the ceremony can be held. He also tells how, when they were alone at Akahanga, Benito brought him to the unmarked grave of the first king so they could connect. Afterwards, Benito gave him a ball of light. For me, this evokes a gift which the Ancestor don’t want to see let go.

                                                                 *

There is a keen sense of anticipation as we gather at the ferry. This sense is heightened as Moorea’s mountainous profile looms large to our approach. I am stirred by the rhythms of an ancient dance, which rock my body past the swelling of the waters. I feel a palpable sense of destiny. Everyone does. Local travellers stare bemusedly at our bright eyes. Soon, all will be revealed.

Drunvalo is greeted by elders when we dock. He stays with them as our buses pull away. It transpires that more permissions must be granted before our work can be done. Next morning we learn that he made contact with the eldest elder, who has asked that our ceremony be held on the beach in front of his home. Drunvalo is very emotional as he shares this, knowing that fulfilment of his task is now assured. He is radiant in the light of his relief, switched on once more after days of marking time.

That afternoon we are taken by a local wise woman, F, to a viewing point that looks on to the sacred mountain Rotui, framed by spectacular bays on either side. Mt Rotui is an octopus, presently awakening, whose tentacles embrace all Polynesia. She brings us to the principal remaining marae, a sacred space akin to the ahus of Easter Island.  At this one, aspiring youths proposed themselves for admission to the company of heroes. One test involved diving for pearls in a single breath. Each candidate was given two chances and was put to death if he failed a second time. Heroism was not something this warrior culture treated lightly.

The marae is pock-marked by kneeling stones at various points from the bottom to the top, where the king sat flanked by high-ranking priests. The positioning of each stone marked the initiatory status of its user. Only initiates were allowed to enter the marae. To violate this taboo meant death.

But what of the women? our women ask. Did they not perform ceremonies? No. What was their role? To be beautiful, nourishing and always ready for love. Our women try not to look appalled. F, eyes twinkling, went on: ‘A woman doesn’t need ceremonies. She knows she is already sacred. Her body is a temple that gives life’. Then, without any sense of contradiction, she points us towards a women’s marae, which was used for rituals around menstruation and childbirth.

She leads a brief ceremony with our women there, after which she says that the nature of Moorea is love. She speaks derisively of a white woman who arranged to be married on this marae, in violation of taboo. Within a short time, both she and her partner were dead. One of our young women, disturbed, seeks clarification. F says enigmatically ‘After love there is no forgiveness’. She is not speaking so to be harsh. This is what happened. The sanctity of the marae must be respected at all times.

Worried, some of our members ask if it is ok to remove stones. No. Everything is already where it belongs, what need is there to move it? And fallen fruit? That’s ok. Many of us move to return stones respectfully to their rightful place. F looks mystified. D explains that we have been asked to find natural objects from the island for tomorrow’s ceremony. ‘Ah’, F relents, ‘if you do it in love it’s ok to remove even a stone’. These words are greeted with relief but some faces still bear worried looks.

Later I learn that many of our women felt disturbed by energies around the marae. Some were physically sick. My sense is that the whole area is a burial ground. F said that it had all been sacred space, paved with stones which the French removed to build roads. She also said that human sacrifice used to be a standard feature of her society. I had felt a violent energy around the first marae and was struck by her frequent references to death. The pace of our tour prevents me from sensing further into this.

There were other chaotic tendencies at work. Our drivers, for example, offered their own tours, splitting the group. There was no room for our sixty plus members to get within earshot, especially around the marae. Also, D was recording. This encouraged F to speak directly to her, further limiting audibility. It seems that a further round of settling was required, as with the elders’ dissent, before the island could open to unity consciousness.

That night we have a traditional Polynesian meal presided over by a white man who extols paradise and shouts orders to gratify our every need. Youngsters perform a hula for us: the girls with grace and beauty, the boys with dogged resolution. Adult singers chant the most beautifully heart-opening melody I have ever heard. The sunset is perfection.

                                                                 *

We rise early to make the elder’s house by dawn. This morning is the occasion of our final ceremony, 13,000 years in the making. Drunvalo goes first to hug a radiant old man, who then greets each of us individually to his home. Notwithstanding advanced years, he is a being of great beauty. My Heart opens to him, preparing me for what is to come.

We pass through directly to the beach, where we gather around Drunvalo and the elders. Papa and Mama, so introduced, take us to their hearts, adopting us as their children. Drunvalo speaks eloquently of the eternal marriage between Mother Earth and Father Sky and how a means has now been put in place to return humanity, their children, to the path originally intended for us. All that is needed is a simple ceremony to anchor the grid and turn it on.

He asks each of us to bring a small stone from the beach, with which he constructs a prayer wheel in the sand. Then representatives of the cardinal directions are chosen, one fe/male couple from the island and another from our group. We form a circle under the rising sun as Drunvalo invokes the spirits of north, south, east, west, above, below and within. Then we pray quietly that Divine Will may be done and it is. The grid anchors easily into Earth and switches on.

Drunvalo states that the dreams of our Hearts will be realised very quickly from now on. We instigate this process by holding our families in a unifying dream of love, then our ancestors, and then all ancestors. For me, this sequence expands to include star ancestors. We hug, swim and sample energies that now pour through the centre of the wheel. Then, after a celebratory meal, we head back to our hotel.

The whole island feels overwhelmingly erotic, pulsing with life. Despite this, I fall asleep promptly in our room. C goes to hire a car for four extra days we have agreed to spend here alone. I dream about huge beings who drop in through chutes. I introduce them to young artists and musicians. These beings signify embodiments of Christ consciousness. I must help to introduce this to a rising human culture.

Talk at lunch is of ways to carry new consciousness out into the world. I find myself preoccupied by ecological concerns: specifically, ways to heal scarcity and pollution by spiritual means. I am also clear about the need not to let my approach to such issues be dominated by old ways. What the world has long considered impossible is not actually so if we are faithful to the Dream of our Hearts. We have stepped into a new awareness and must remember to act from it rather than the habits of before.

C leaves early but returns with an outstanding bill from Tahiti. She has just arranged the car and doesn’t want to do everything herself. I hear a tell-tale edginess in her voice and remember to stay in my Heart. I had been waiting to see R about my ancestor update but she is still engaged in conversation. I tell C I’ll come and deal with the bill shortly. She goes to rest. When R’s conversation shows no sign of flagging, I leave. I return having dealt with the bill but she is gone. Perhaps at dinner, which will be our last meal.

R is busy at dinner so I let that conversation go. We are to have a closing ceremony but this is delayed. C fears that if we wait longer, there will be no one to receive us at our lodging. We decide to leave and pass where the group is assembling. I ask her to come in and say goodbye. She turns angrily, saying she’s sick of being commanded by me. Still in my Heart, I say that I will make the announcement but people will want to take leave of her as well. She comes reluctantly and is heartened by a wave of warm goodbyes.

There follows a taut adventure of finding our bungalow in the dark but we succeed and success brings relief. Recalling that we can never achieve unity through the mind, instead of trying to analyse and reconstruct, I take C in my arms and hold her. Tension drains from her body and she becomes open to trusting again. I know that parts of her have been unnerved by the inflow of new consciousness and that her response has posed a necessary challenge for me too. We weave this into a mutual understanding in due course.

By day we see that our bungalow is beautifully located on Opanahu Bay, under the gaze of Mt Rotui. I float in the Pacific and commune with the sacred mountain. Later we drive to the marae that F had shown us. We are alone and the energies less agitated. We explore the surrounding forest and find many places whose guardian spirits align easily with our presence. I have a sense of mutual gratitude and respect.

I follow a ‘Path of Ancestors’ down to the marae and again feel very moved. I experience these ancestors as my own and am grateful for their role in leading humanity in our climb back through the chakras. I pray for healing at the men’s marae, invoking energies of the grid as on Rapa Nui. Many anxious spirits are released. Then I watch as C sits in homage at the women’s marae. There is great clarity and peace around her vigil. From then on, she connects more and more with her first nature.

Next day, we explore the relatively quiet south coast of the island. I feel drawn to conduct a prayer ceremony to heal effects of nuclear testing in the area. Eventually, we come to what feels like a suitable place. It is late evening and sunset is approaching. I set out to explore. A local man, big and heavily tattooed, arrives in an old car. We greet each other and start talking. He confirms that we are looking directly towards the test zone. He owns land just down the road and says that we can use it for the ceremony.

We find a perfect space on a small strip of beach opposite Gerard’s land. This will be our last day on Moorea. C holds a space while I kneel at the ocean, establishing the directions and a vertical axis to link the Hearts of Heaven and Earth. I then go deep into my Heart, through the Point of Creation into Void. From there, I summon energies of Pure Creation and relay them through the matrix of the Grid, intending that the wounds of the Mother will be healed. This prayer expresses the Dream of my Heart.

The passion of this Dream sustains my prayer.  When my passion is spent I am directed to swim in the water, swallow a little and forget everything. I do as I am bid. We journey on then and catch a ferry to Tahiti. Our intention is to relax there for two days before our long flights back to France.

The following night I develop a severe cold but feel so energised that I cannot sleep. By morning I am feverish. My temperature builds impossibly through the day. This is not an ordinary illness. Rather I feel myself engulfed by Sacred Fire. I struggle to the airport that night only to find there is no flight. It has been cancelled weeks before without anyone telling us.

The airline despatches us to the plushest hotel on Tahiti, where they put us in a bungalow on stilts over the ocean. Our window frames Moorea’s beguiling silhouette. There, in a bed resembling the QE2, with shining stars above and lapping waters underneath, I fall into inspired delirium. This partly focuses an obsessive meditation on the number of our room, 485. Over and over through the night, I marvel how the Christ-developmental principle of 13 (85) emerges from the harmony of 12 (48).

This offers some respite through my second endeavour of tracking a double-pyramidal, merkaba-like, quartz form that holds the true blueprint of Earth’s promise as it implodes repeatedly through a cube made up of millions of counterfeits that look just like it. I must not lose track of this true form. I feel greatly relieved each time the 13th ‘one’ is thrown up from the circle of 12. This reassures me that something orderly is happening through a chaos into which I am once more abruptly plunged.

I feel thoroughly exhausted when I wake but the fever has gone. Moreover, I understand that the ocean healing has been successful. I ‘know’ that the Mother’s shattered perineum has been restored and her womb relined ahead of new creation. Also, radioactivity in the water has been cleared. This may seem ‘Foolish’ but it remain an integral expression of the Dream of my Heart. Miracles can still cover crater floors.

                                                                 *

I spend the flight from Tahiti to Los Angeles watching movies, hoping to be ready for sleep on the longer Paris stint. It doesn’t work. I eat, read and watch films from LA to New York. Then, as we approach the Atlantic, things begin to change. My energies, instead of dampening, heighten. My sensitivity increases. The plane is dark and everyone around me asleep. Pop lyrics in my earphones resonate more acutely, as if I am entering an altered state.

Justin Timberlake’s ‘Cry Me a River’ becomes a potent metaphor for the compassionate Heart-opening which allows us, finally, to clear the karma of our past and come again into right relationship with What Is. I feel this with such conviction that it becomes my truth. All the stagnant, frozen emotions that have imprisoned us for so long can now be released. Experiencing this, I pray that everyone – not just people like the members of our group – can know the wonderful lightness and freedom it permits.

I have no sooner integrated this wave than Simple Minds’ ‘Mandela Day’ comes on. I, in my altered state, ‘see’ a bright ribbon of pink love created in our species’ unfolding by one man’s heroic sacrifice and transmutations. It is a Christ-like Passion, of altered hue and texture, but powerfully archetypal nonetheless. The musicians, God-filled, convey this Passion through the driven intensity of their playing.

C stretches over two seats beside me, her head on my lap, still sleeping. Unbidden, my hands work energetically above her crown. Cyndi Lauper sings ‘True Colours’ in my headphones. We all can be beautiful as a rainbow; like Joseph with his coat of chakra colours flying open. I think of all C has endured in recent months and how, at last, the Gold of her Lemurian essence has risen from the depths of her soul into Heart, illuminating a path of many troughs from which it once seemed we might not emerge. Cyndi retires then and Annie Lennox manifests singing ‘The Miracle of Love’.

We are over the Atlantic now, approaching Greenland at an altitude of 36,000 feet. A shaft of silver-white light connects through my base into my Heart. It rises from the centre of Earth, far beneath the ocean floor. I know I am being welcomed by my ‘home’ ocean. Then I feel innumerable shafts of light radiating into my body from all angles. Again I know these are coming from the stars: not just star ancestors but also individual star essences responding to my midnight invocation. I am filled with light, moving in the stillness of a darkened plane, somewhere between Heaven and Earth.

Overflowing with subtle emotion, not knowing how much I can sustain but without an option to do otherwise, I surrender. My feeling is of ecstasy: of unbridled, fathomless en-light-ment. If I die of ecstasy on this flight, then so be it. I know that I am not going to die. At that moment, something totally unanticipated happens. The Christ Grid descends and is drawn into my Heart. For a moment I behold it as an abstract geometric structure, docked around the plane and anchored in me. Then its outer form dissolves and I am left with a holographic replica in my Heart.

Then it feels as if I have no Heart, or rather that there is no outside to my Heart. My Heart is all that is. There is only One Heart! Enough of my subjectivity remains to register this but even it knows it is being transformed in the process. I feel expanded, my body sense annulled, as if the aeroplane is moving in me. My eyes see only Oneness, the Unitary Vision of my illimitable Heart.

Then something happens from which I will forever date my ‘birth’, as consciousness gives way to an infinite wave of pure unconditional love that rises from the centre of my Heart, engulfing the bliss-fatigued space that once was ‘me’. This experience is beyond overwhelm. No river I can cry would state its vastness. It transcends emotion. ‘I’ think then that now ‘I’ will surely die and I do as Consciousness suddenly registers what is happening. I am becoming Christ consciousness! That is what this humanly unendurable love conveys: not I but Christ in me. I must live in this awareness for the rest of my life.  The energy of its knowing streams through me for three hours.

I am in an unutterable state of bliss when C wakes up and asks me how I am. Did I sleep? I feel like I will never sleep again. I gesture towards my Heart to convey something of the energies by which I am still suffused. She feels this and we sit together, waiting. ‘Tears for Fears’ come on the headphones singing ‘Woman in Chains’. I access a new awareness of all that has been involved in Drunvalo’s work with fe/male healing and, more intimately, in my relationship with C through these last years. I pray we will now live beyond these chains.

My experience begins to stabilise as our plane flies over Ireland. I know that I will land here in two weeks and attempt to give expression to all that I have felt tonight. This will be one aspect of the second of 12 journeys ‘Home’ after our extended stay on Moorea.

I am lucid by the time we reach Paris, where we are fortunate to catch a connecting flight to Stuttgart. We board a train into the city. C becomes shaky as soon as we step off at the central station. This is a moment we have anticipated, when old ghosts are resurrected, called forth by old surroundings. Sensing the changed atmosphere of the consciousness into which they emerge, they become anxious and strive to induce panic, their established mode of responding to circumstances that threaten lasting change.

C fills with apprehension. In this moment, all her Lemurian re-membering and Christ-promise is sucked back into old, fear-governed moulds. I remind her of this, exhorting her to hold the panic rather than become it. I step back then and wait while she, for the first time ever, holds the raging terrors of her past in the presence of a moment fully lived. I think then that we will dream a New Earth.

                                                                 *

When our ceremony to activate the Grid on Moorea was complete, I stayed still for a long time. My energy was soft and utterly receptive. It was pure feminine and very Lemurian. Throughout our journey, I never once missed the male striving which came to the fore, unconsciously, in my exercising before we left. Spirit curtailed this so I could be as I had to while away.

Recollection of my Polynesian lifetimes was implicit in this transformation. It began with our sunrise meditation at the moai and finished on my last day with Benito, when I remembered the life of young initiates in the cave. Even this remembering had a deeply tacit ‘felt’ quality. It is a requirement of the Fool’s journey that s/he must proceed in innocence and trust, which is what I must do now through 12 journeys that will lead to a new Oneness.

Grace comes as appropriate, when and where, without need of manifesting extraordinary power. I must embrace human imperfection and make beauty, in ways that are accessible to all. This is a great gift of the Christ Grid and the unity consciousness it endows: anyone who has a Heart can be raised up. Extraordinary powers are not required. It is an integral feature of the Christ path that it opens for the sake of all.

It is representative and developmental: the Path of the Child as one who has realised the marriage of Divine Mother (Earth) and Divine Father (Sky) within. Such a Child grows in perfection without ever relinquishing the perfection that was always present. It is just a matter of disclosure, of Self to Self and Unity to Union. The more clearly we realise this, the clearer it becomes for all. The first must be last and the last first. Unity encompasses ‘time’ as well as ‘space’.

The developmental consciousness of the self-realised Christ Child is doubly blessed. S/he walks the Way to Heaven knowing that the Way is already Heaven. There is no knowing more poignant or more beautiful. It is inspiring also, but towards what? What shall we do when there is nothing we need do to make things better? These are not the same question. Perfection is already given, yet it was intrinsically good to help the horse.

It honoured life. We can never achieve unity through the mind, so we must begin by accepting paradox when we dare to think about it. Unity is inherently dynamic: it moves, shifts and changes, forever affecting to go beyond (transcend) itself. Forever still, it makes beauty as it goes. As expressions of Unity, we are fated to do likewise. We make beauty by realising love. This is what evolution is (for); this is what we are (for).

Our efforts within the sphere of Earth ease her Ascension, which is also ours. Removing our blemishes facilitates her Path, as does every gift of inspiration we attract. We make a difference to how Earth’s necessary changes happen. The Grid never was an end. It offers New Beginnings for End Times, and passage into a Realm of Miracle. Like the first king, we make miracles by honouring our Dream. This is what people do when we are inspired.

Ascending, we make miracles and beauty; not we but the Christ in us. This is our first nature. We manifest it as we let go the second skin of our conditioned stories. Letting go entails an end to clinging, not a casting off. Ascension entails a re-valuing of memory, not its repudiation; a perception of beauty where before we might only have seen strife. The ancestors are renewed as we ascend; re-membered and not forgotten.

In unity, we are the ancestors. We cannot cast them off any more than we can cast off our own souls. Neither do we cling to ‘them’ or ‘us’. Letting ourselves be, innocent beyond abuse, we let them be and find peace in our re-membering. This is the Way of Heaven, of Christ-ed consciousness which encompasses space and time. Ascension makes beauty as what is already perfect continues to evolve, embellished by new jewels of compassion.

It is good to help the horse and better to do so than not. It is more beautiful because it expresses love more freely. Helping the horse means different things to different people. It is an image; a teaching to awaken the Dream of our Hearts. For each of us, this Dream resonates within the Dream of Earth, which resonates within the Dream of God.

                                                                 *

The Dream of my Heart is to facilitate Earth’s Ascension in beauty, clarity and peace. Thus I will make my twelve and thirteenth journeys, despite surface disruptions involved. As in Polynesia, chaos is apparent only, a movement in stillness that heralds the arising of new beauty. It too is beauty when it is neither clung to nor cast off. Riding the Serpent, new mysteries of Light will be revealed.

Thus, relinquishing Martian controls, I resolve to let all ancestors be, knowing that – unconditioned – their gifts will seek greater perfection through me. Relinquishing Martian controls, I resolve to let even Martians be. I will go where my Heart takes me and expend my Passion there in service to all that I AM. Meeting you, I will perceive another me and rejoice in Oneness that is now the gift of All.

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