We stopped at a tall, circular building made of coloured glass. There was an air of festivity about it, music and vibrant colours everywhere. This was the House of Councils, the equivalent of our Government Buildings. A Council might make decisions there, affecting the whole group. Anyone could call a meeting which would continue until a decision was arrived at. Each community had its own representative on the Council. There was no leader, no power struggles. Even though many of them were scientists, they were trained in the Temples. Science and spirituality were no different in Lemuria.
Set back on a huge meadow with large wild flowers ahead of us was a towering concert hall with a golden dome. We walked up the path, lined on both sides with exotic-looking, multi-coloured wild flowers. The musicians were playing on spectacular-looking instruments which, I regret to report, due to the complexity of design, are simply impossible to describe. And how can I possibly describe the music, as I wasn't listening to it with my ears? It felt as if every cell in my body was reverberating to the deep, echoing sounds, cascading like warm light within me. Dancers wearing silky, transparent clothes, each a different colour of the rainbow, glided like seabirds across the floor. In the background, with the choir, the lead singer had begun her song in that haunting, ancient language Solari sang on the balcony that morning. I think I just wanted to burst into tears, float up into the golden dome and transform my body into sound itself, into formlessness, into all the golden, melancholic sounds around me.
The Master was waiting for us at the tall, shining, solid gold gates of the Temple as we arrived. He greeted me with a hug as if I were his long-lost son. Entering the Temple, I saw a huge mosaic of a square grid, like a chessboard, each square made up of a block of six straight and broken lines, the straight lines in dazzling silver, the broken lines in lapis lazuli.
Inside, pillars of golden and multi-coloured light shone brightly through the crystal walls. The Master explained, telepathically, that the changing colours would be absorbed by the patient, as the healers sang his or her name. The Temple was exclusively a place of healing and a source of energy. Xendo and Solari bowed to the Master and left the two of us two to chat.
'When you change your belief, you change your reality,' the Master began. 'Our ancestors taught you this in Atlantis before the Great Flood, before the Fall. Sadly, you went off-course and did the opposite of what they taught you.'
'The choice to leave Paradise was our own, I'm afraid.'
'I am happy that you understand that, Jordan. To see is to believe, your scientists argue. Our ancestors taught you the opposite. To believe is to see. Then your religions distorted the true nature of belief. When you trust, you accept, you do not hold onto any inner resistance, because you know that everything happens for a reason. You are what you believe; you experience what you believe. Everything is a mirror of consciousness.'
'How can we be sure of this?'
'If the belief is not yours, if it belongs to someone else, it will not feel right. Shift to the reality you want. Otherwise, you will surely get the reality you don't want. Do you want to change your world? You can't. You can only allow it to be as it is and thus enable change to happen. Every piece of the hologram reflects the hologram. Change the piece and you change the hologram.'
'How?'
'By shifting to another reality that matches the vibrational state you've changed to.'
'Like tuning into a radio station!'
'Yes. What you seek is seeking you. Allow the totality to do the tuning. That's how you follow your joy.'
'What if there's nothing to be joyful about? That would be the case for most people of my acquaintance! Ha-ha!'
'They won't find joy anywhere outside of them, not in the shops, the promotions, the holidays, the honeymoons. Looking for joy leads only to sorrow. Our children discover how to reveal the joy that is already within them.'
# 22 next week! Catch up on: gregoryrosenstock.blogspot.com
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