The Saint and the Sewing Machine (message #6)

February 8, 2008


Dear Friends,
This is Oran. Your brother and your kin. Please see the good in all. Know that however dark the shadows become there is always always light. Be not lost in the illusion of this world.

It [this world] is a real as a chalkboard slate-- you may erase and rewrite your choices and alter the direction of your life as soon as you think of a thought. Sooner! Instantly.

Yes. I am real. A real human man living on the Isle of Iona. The guardian of this mystery, allowing me to write-- to communicate is the medium. For her assistance I am grateful. But, these are my words. You, Gilded Butterfly guide the pen, like fabric through a sewing machine. I electrify the stitches and create the design. This is information for those who are now asking, “how does this work?” Quite simply.

And now that you realize I can communicate with your through thought you may ask your question.


. . .
(There is a pause in the writing. . .)

Yes, there is life where I am. There is a version of my life, happening as memory around me. I choose to remain connected to many human ideas associated with my life on earth. No. Not a haunting. I live without illusion. Hauntings occur when there is no realization that the body is no longer in service. Cornwall. There is a King of Cornwall who is not aware that his body is “gone” and he haunts the battle site where he fell ions ago (I think he means eons, but in the quantum sense, ions may be exactly what he means). It is just like a human being remembering some form of wound. An emotional event over and over. That is a haunting, too.

How do you break this? You must realize that you are dreaming, and wake. Wake thyself. It is simple to do so. Let go of the wound. Let the skin close around it and heal. This is something to be learned.


Go now, my kin.

Blessings from Home.

Oran

(he draws the a-frame house)