A Strange Journey
“You know these magical scooter trips you take? Can I come on one?” Darryl asked, as he sipped from the paper rim of a coffee cup.
It was Taiwan, 2012, and we were standing in a school corridor, surrounded by too many noisy small people with over-sized rucksacks. Darryl was my fellow teacher. He was a thin, dark-haired Londoner who could often be seen driving his scooter full pelt wearing a crash helmet which was a furry lion’s head. His trainers were gold. He wore stripy Doctor Who scarves and owned an array of colourful felt hats which annoyed the school management immensely.
“I never take anyone on my soul trips. They are one-woman affairs,” I replied coolly. And it was true. Because unless the other person is genuinely onboard, they kill the magic. I couldn’t quite decide if Darryl was mocking me or serious.
“I’m curious. I just want to try it. I’ll bring some incense sticks in case we see a temple,” he offered. A couple of eight-year-old girls pulled at his arm.
I saw the smoke of the incense rising in my mind, and was swayed. “Well, I don’t know if it will work with two of us. I mean whose intuition are we going to follow? But alright, we’ll try. It’ll be an experiment.” The bell (or siren as it sounded to me) blared. I sighed, and stepped past him down the corridor to my next class, wondering if I’d regret the decision.
Two days later I was astride my scooter in a Jhubei backstreet, waiting. Darryl pulled up the road, lifted the lion’s mouth of his helmet and waved a handful of pink incense sticks in the air. He was bang on time.
I laughed and turned the key. My scooter hummed in anticipation. “There’s no plan. We’re just going to follow our hunches and see where we end up,” I said. “I really don’t know if it will work though. It might be crap.”
Darryl shoved the incense sticks in his rucksack and nodded. “Yeah I get it. We’re going with the flow!”
Soon the pair of us were buzzing along the road like two polychrome bees. The sushi shops and foot massage parlours fell away until we were threading along a highway. There was nothing much to see and I felt a vine of doubt creep into my gut. Oh dear, it was going to be a colossal non-event.
Then a turning appeared. To my mind it didn't look particularly inspiring, but Darryl waved his arm at it, and swung left. I followed.
Minutes later, we found ourselves in front of a huge temple neither of us had ever seen before. It was bustling with colour and people. Taiwanese temples are fantastic places, stuffed as they are full of pagan Gods and Goddesses, dragons, candles, and myriad fortune-telling rituals. They’re worlds within worlds. And this one looked like a good one.
“I just had a hunch to turn off at that road.” Darryl grinned as he yanked off his helmet. We parked our bikes and walked to the entrance.
As we stepped under the curling wooden gables, we entered a shadowy corridor. It snaked into multiple chambers, all teeming with ornate wood carvings. Incense smoke wafted upward in thick, sweet whorls, goddess statues stared out from crypts, and there was the constant clatter of wooden moon blocks (a Taiwanese divination practice). Darryl and I separated into the darkness.
After a short meditation inside the temple, I trotted outside. Blinking in the daylight, I saw my friend sitting under an eave chatting avidly with a tiny wrinkled old man.
“This bloke is excellent!” Darryl turned to me grinning. “He’s reading my fortune. It’s pretty interesting, I reckon.”
I exhaled in relief. We had entered the wonderful rhythm of a spiritual quest. To my great surprise, this trip with Darryl was going to work.
It was Taiwan, 2012, and we were standing in a school corridor, surrounded by too many noisy small people with over-sized rucksacks. Darryl was my fellow teacher. He was a thin, dark-haired Londoner who could often be seen driving his scooter full pelt wearing a crash helmet which was a furry lion’s head. His trainers were gold. He wore stripy Doctor Who scarves and owned an array of colourful felt hats which annoyed the school management immensely.
“I never take anyone on my soul trips. They are one-woman affairs,” I replied coolly. And it was true. Because unless the other person is genuinely onboard, they kill the magic. I couldn’t quite decide if Darryl was mocking me or serious.
“I’m curious. I just want to try it. I’ll bring some incense sticks in case we see a temple,” he offered. A couple of eight-year-old girls pulled at his arm.
I saw the smoke of the incense rising in my mind, and was swayed. “Well, I don’t know if it will work with two of us. I mean whose intuition are we going to follow? But alright, we’ll try. It’ll be an experiment.” The bell (or siren as it sounded to me) blared. I sighed, and stepped past him down the corridor to my next class, wondering if I’d regret the decision.
Two days later I was astride my scooter in a Jhubei backstreet, waiting. Darryl pulled up the road, lifted the lion’s mouth of his helmet and waved a handful of pink incense sticks in the air. He was bang on time.
I laughed and turned the key. My scooter hummed in anticipation. “There’s no plan. We’re just going to follow our hunches and see where we end up,” I said. “I really don’t know if it will work though. It might be crap.”
Darryl shoved the incense sticks in his rucksack and nodded. “Yeah I get it. We’re going with the flow!”
Soon the pair of us were buzzing along the road like two polychrome bees. The sushi shops and foot massage parlours fell away until we were threading along a highway. There was nothing much to see and I felt a vine of doubt creep into my gut. Oh dear, it was going to be a colossal non-event.
Then a turning appeared. To my mind it didn't look particularly inspiring, but Darryl waved his arm at it, and swung left. I followed.
Minutes later, we found ourselves in front of a huge temple neither of us had ever seen before. It was bustling with colour and people. Taiwanese temples are fantastic places, stuffed as they are full of pagan Gods and Goddesses, dragons, candles, and myriad fortune-telling rituals. They’re worlds within worlds. And this one looked like a good one.
“I just had a hunch to turn off at that road.” Darryl grinned as he yanked off his helmet. We parked our bikes and walked to the entrance.
As we stepped under the curling wooden gables, we entered a shadowy corridor. It snaked into multiple chambers, all teeming with ornate wood carvings. Incense smoke wafted upward in thick, sweet whorls, goddess statues stared out from crypts, and there was the constant clatter of wooden moon blocks (a Taiwanese divination practice). Darryl and I separated into the darkness.
After a short meditation inside the temple, I trotted outside. Blinking in the daylight, I saw my friend sitting under an eave chatting avidly with a tiny wrinkled old man.
“This bloke is excellent!” Darryl turned to me grinning. “He’s reading my fortune. It’s pretty interesting, I reckon.”
I exhaled in relief. We had entered the wonderful rhythm of a spiritual quest. To my great surprise, this trip with Darryl was going to work.
Taiwanese temples are worlds within worlds
The temple was just the beginning. We spent the afternoon driving into the glistening hills, past secret shrines, up and down winding roads. It was Asian Alice in Wonderland on scooters with each turning leading us to a new clue. But it was sweltering, the aluminium sky pressing the heat onto us like a saucepan lid. Darryl pulled up next to me and lifted the lion's mouth again, "I'm parched," he shouted.
"Me too," I nodded. Geniuses that we were, we had brought incense but nothing to drink! And now we were in the sticks.
Trundling on into the mountains, I felt the thirst thickening in my throat. I pushed the thought away, because there was nothing for it, we had to wait. And it was then we happened upon the enchanted lake.
What happened next has stuck in my mind ever since. It’s a tiny example of how we create doors in reality. Because the way we make things happen, or perhaps simply the way things happen, is not necessarily the way we've been taught.
It was mid afternoon, and both our scooters and our heads were hot from motoring. Turning along a sweeping bend, the landscape opened out. Boom! Things suddenly turned a little weird. Slowing down, I felt my skin prickle. Because here, adrift in the Taiwanese hinterlands was a large and strangely still lake. The green was iridescent. The surrounding meadows verdant, pulsing with birds and butterflies. And a rickety bridge (always an augur for the otherworldly), crawled over the marshland like a slatted, wooden serpent.
We pulled over. Neither of us had a clue where we were. Darryl prised the mouth of his helmet again. “Oh my God! I’d kill for a cold coke,” he said. As soon as he mentioned it, I could feel an ice cold can of coke in my hands, and taste the cool sweetness in my mouth. I was so thirsty. What I wouldn't give!
“One will turn up somewhere. We’re in the zone here. Let’s manifest it,” I said grinning.
“OK, can of Coke, where are you?” Darryl shouted out to the landscape. I don’t think he realised it was listening.
"Me too," I nodded. Geniuses that we were, we had brought incense but nothing to drink! And now we were in the sticks.
Trundling on into the mountains, I felt the thirst thickening in my throat. I pushed the thought away, because there was nothing for it, we had to wait. And it was then we happened upon the enchanted lake.
What happened next has stuck in my mind ever since. It’s a tiny example of how we create doors in reality. Because the way we make things happen, or perhaps simply the way things happen, is not necessarily the way we've been taught.
It was mid afternoon, and both our scooters and our heads were hot from motoring. Turning along a sweeping bend, the landscape opened out. Boom! Things suddenly turned a little weird. Slowing down, I felt my skin prickle. Because here, adrift in the Taiwanese hinterlands was a large and strangely still lake. The green was iridescent. The surrounding meadows verdant, pulsing with birds and butterflies. And a rickety bridge (always an augur for the otherworldly), crawled over the marshland like a slatted, wooden serpent.
We pulled over. Neither of us had a clue where we were. Darryl prised the mouth of his helmet again. “Oh my God! I’d kill for a cold coke,” he said. As soon as he mentioned it, I could feel an ice cold can of coke in my hands, and taste the cool sweetness in my mouth. I was so thirsty. What I wouldn't give!
“One will turn up somewhere. We’re in the zone here. Let’s manifest it,” I said grinning.
“OK, can of Coke, where are you?” Darryl shouted out to the landscape. I don’t think he realised it was listening.
Magical journeys into wonderland
We wandered about the lake, the humid air adhering to our flesh like paste. Butterflies and large strange insects buzzed about us. Finally, our thirst got the better of us. So we stepped back on our scooters and drove further into the rainforest covered hills. There was no one and nothing around us other than green things that dripped. It was baking. My mouth was so dry I didn't dare open it. But we were in the middle of Taiwanese nowhere, and not a shop in sight.
We sped round a corner, scooters tiliting. I was ahead. Darryl behind. Suddenly my friend beeped and screeched to halt. I braked and twisted my head behind me. Darryl was walking his scooter in reverse. I blinked and gaped. No. It was impossible! What should be standing there loitering nonchalantly under a banyan tree, but a drinks machine! Honest to God. A vending machine. At the top of an uninhabited hill, with no one in sight. It whirred, as refrigerators do. The only other sound was the metallic buzz of Taiwanese crickets. Lord knows how the thing was powered. It might have been unofficially rigged up to a power cable (a fairly common occurrence in Taiwan).
Just to add a dash more surrealism to the adventure, a leather sofa had been placed next to the machine, as if a genie had dropped it there. I didn’t have a smart phone in those days, so I have no evidence of this phenomenon. But it was there. And my hair roots began to twitch. Dragging our scooters onto their stands, we yanked off our bike helmets. “No way!” Said Darryl. “Bloody hell! There’s even Coke in it, I can see it from here.”
“See, you manifested that,” I whispered. “Good call. I would have missed it.”
“I just saw it out of the corner of my eye and wondered what it was! I didn’t think it would be this though.” Darryl scratched his head peering at the glass case.
“Do you have any change?”
My friend reached into his pocket, then approached the drinks machine, albeit it treading a little warily. The coins rattled in. Two cans of cokes rolled out. “Flippin’ heck, they’re ice cold too!” Darryl threw one over to me.
Wordlessly, we both sank into the sofa, and guzzled our drinks. It was without a doubt the best Coke I’ve ever tasted. Darryl was silent, his eyes bulging. “This is pretty weird, you know,” he said at last. I nodded and chuckled. Because yes, it was.
The next day Darryl told the entire staff room about our trip. Such was his passion, even the staunchly rational Canadian raised an eyebrow. Because hey, Darryl was a cynical Brit and not particularly known for his flights of fancy.
We sped round a corner, scooters tiliting. I was ahead. Darryl behind. Suddenly my friend beeped and screeched to halt. I braked and twisted my head behind me. Darryl was walking his scooter in reverse. I blinked and gaped. No. It was impossible! What should be standing there loitering nonchalantly under a banyan tree, but a drinks machine! Honest to God. A vending machine. At the top of an uninhabited hill, with no one in sight. It whirred, as refrigerators do. The only other sound was the metallic buzz of Taiwanese crickets. Lord knows how the thing was powered. It might have been unofficially rigged up to a power cable (a fairly common occurrence in Taiwan).
Just to add a dash more surrealism to the adventure, a leather sofa had been placed next to the machine, as if a genie had dropped it there. I didn’t have a smart phone in those days, so I have no evidence of this phenomenon. But it was there. And my hair roots began to twitch. Dragging our scooters onto their stands, we yanked off our bike helmets. “No way!” Said Darryl. “Bloody hell! There’s even Coke in it, I can see it from here.”
“See, you manifested that,” I whispered. “Good call. I would have missed it.”
“I just saw it out of the corner of my eye and wondered what it was! I didn’t think it would be this though.” Darryl scratched his head peering at the glass case.
“Do you have any change?”
My friend reached into his pocket, then approached the drinks machine, albeit it treading a little warily. The coins rattled in. Two cans of cokes rolled out. “Flippin’ heck, they’re ice cold too!” Darryl threw one over to me.
Wordlessly, we both sank into the sofa, and guzzled our drinks. It was without a doubt the best Coke I’ve ever tasted. Darryl was silent, his eyes bulging. “This is pretty weird, you know,” he said at last. I nodded and chuckled. Because yes, it was.
The next day Darryl told the entire staff room about our trip. Such was his passion, even the staunchly rational Canadian raised an eyebrow. Because hey, Darryl was a cynical Brit and not particularly known for his flights of fancy.
Now, obviously this isn’t the most significant manifesting event of my life. It was just a drinks vending machine that happened to have two cans of lovely cold Coke in it, and a sofa next to it, in the middle of rural Taiwan. But the event always sticks with me (and no doubt Darryl) as an example that we can shift into alternate realities extremely fast. That anything is possible. Did we make the Coke machine appear? Did we slip onto a Coke machine timeline? Did the landscape hear us? Did we dream a new reality?
I’ve had so many experiences like this, I could fill volumes with them. Especially in Turkey where magic and life force are just another day at the office. I’ve made food, drinks, assistance, cars, land, money, and plenty of first class plane seats appear. But now I’m back in rational old Europe, where the prevailing narrative of logic is clearly dying, but no one knows what to do about it. Westerners aren’t used to chaos. They don’t know how to navigate it. And if you mention things like magic and Earth Whispering, you are generally viewed as a new age nitwit.
I should add at this juncture, I’m not insinuating that we can just imagine something and it happens. Or that it’s necessarily our fault when things ‘go wrong’. Or that I get it right all the time (pretty obvious). That’s not how it works. I don’t think you can simply think positively, prance with fairies and manifest a pink elephant. There’s a science or an art to it. And the (usually overlooked) key you have to be operating beyond the world of narratives, hearing the planet and working with the force of life itself, which has a rather larger perspective than one human.
So what actually happened with the drinks machine?
I’ll use that drinks machine in the wilderness anecdote to map how we create new realities for ourselves; big or small. Because though there may be other ways of describing it, for me that’s what happened. We forged (or shifted into) an alternate reality.
1. First, before we even turned our scooter ignitions, Darryl and I shared an intent. And the intent was born out of some sort of faith and wonder. We intended to have a magical trip (not an ordinary tour). I think when Darryl mentioned the incense sticks, I sensed he genuinely believed something other-worldly could happen which is why I let him come.
2. We both followed through on our idea in the physical world. We met up on scooters. Darryl was bang on time and brought incense sticks. These actions indicate he took the adventure seriously. He was committed and focused.
3. We let go of our logical reasoning and plans, and entered a different kind of relationship with the landscape itself. We paid attention to hunches and let the environment guide us. There was no clock watching or map checking. In a very short time we shifted from one reality into another, weirder, more flexible one.
4. Once we reached the ‘enchanted’ lake, our ideas of what was possible and real had already morphed. We were ‘in the zone’, so to speak (more on this coming in a later post). So by the time we both saw a cold can of Coke in our minds’ eye, and tasted it in our imaginations, the idea was soaked in a far more powerful potential.
5. We almost drove past the vending machine (I didn’t see it). This happens all the time. Over and over again, I watch people miss hugely important opportunities and gifts, because they make assumptions about where that opportunity should/shouldn’t be. Darryl spotted the machine and something pulled him to stop.
I’ve had so many experiences like this, I could fill volumes with them. Especially in Turkey where magic and life force are just another day at the office. I’ve made food, drinks, assistance, cars, land, money, and plenty of first class plane seats appear. But now I’m back in rational old Europe, where the prevailing narrative of logic is clearly dying, but no one knows what to do about it. Westerners aren’t used to chaos. They don’t know how to navigate it. And if you mention things like magic and Earth Whispering, you are generally viewed as a new age nitwit.
I should add at this juncture, I’m not insinuating that we can just imagine something and it happens. Or that it’s necessarily our fault when things ‘go wrong’. Or that I get it right all the time (pretty obvious). That’s not how it works. I don’t think you can simply think positively, prance with fairies and manifest a pink elephant. There’s a science or an art to it. And the (usually overlooked) key you have to be operating beyond the world of narratives, hearing the planet and working with the force of life itself, which has a rather larger perspective than one human.
So what actually happened with the drinks machine?
I’ll use that drinks machine in the wilderness anecdote to map how we create new realities for ourselves; big or small. Because though there may be other ways of describing it, for me that’s what happened. We forged (or shifted into) an alternate reality.
1. First, before we even turned our scooter ignitions, Darryl and I shared an intent. And the intent was born out of some sort of faith and wonder. We intended to have a magical trip (not an ordinary tour). I think when Darryl mentioned the incense sticks, I sensed he genuinely believed something other-worldly could happen which is why I let him come.
2. We both followed through on our idea in the physical world. We met up on scooters. Darryl was bang on time and brought incense sticks. These actions indicate he took the adventure seriously. He was committed and focused.
3. We let go of our logical reasoning and plans, and entered a different kind of relationship with the landscape itself. We paid attention to hunches and let the environment guide us. There was no clock watching or map checking. In a very short time we shifted from one reality into another, weirder, more flexible one.
4. Once we reached the ‘enchanted’ lake, our ideas of what was possible and real had already morphed. We were ‘in the zone’, so to speak (more on this coming in a later post). So by the time we both saw a cold can of Coke in our minds’ eye, and tasted it in our imaginations, the idea was soaked in a far more powerful potential.
5. We almost drove past the vending machine (I didn’t see it). This happens all the time. Over and over again, I watch people miss hugely important opportunities and gifts, because they make assumptions about where that opportunity should/shouldn’t be. Darryl spotted the machine and something pulled him to stop.
Multiple realities
Why does this matter?
We are in a time of great change. There is plenty of anxiety about our future, and that of the planet. It frustrates me immensely because I experience daily that the way we make things happen isn't the way we've been taught. Life on Earth isn't going anywhere, of that I'm sure. Life itself doesn't die, it just changes form. And we have a say in what form it takes. But if we're still stuck in a 20th century mindset that numbers and calculations accurately predict the future of the Earth (and let's face it, we still can't accurately predict the weather a week ahead, never mind anything else), if we're still convinced we're tiny powerless beings stuck in a body, if we still think this kind of 'magic' is nonsense, if we buy into denial on the one hand or despair on the other, we are lost.
No one knows the future because it is being created every second. It's an alchemy between our minds and the mind of the planet. I encourage you to join with that planetary mind, and forge something beautiful with it. If you're interested in that, have a look at my Earth Whispering experience.
No one knows the future because it is being created every second. It's an alchemy between our minds and the mind of the planet. I encourage you to join with that planetary mind, and forge something beautiful with it. If you're interested in that, have a look at my Earth Whispering experience.
