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Mo's house in Barbados,
construction almost finished
In this spring of 1986 I'm 32 years of age and I’ve just completed my Bachelor Degree in Computer Science. Being very proud of my success, Mo, my father, has invited me to spend the month of June with him at his home in Barbados. So here I am.
Two weeks ago I landed here exhausted, but in this Caribbean warm, soothing and luxuriant environment, I’m beginning to recover.
Mo is busy completing the construction of his beautiful octagonal castle, made of pink coral, on the eastern coast of the island of Barbados, where the powerful Atlantic winds blow continuously. The frontage of his house is only about twenty feet away from a hundred feet drop to the water and the view on the ocean is breathtaking
This morning after pouring myself a delicious cup of coffee I walk onto the terrace facing the ocean. The mischievous wind is so strong that it empties my cup before I can take another sip. I burst into laughter, amazed and a little vexed at such elfishness.
- Hey, mister wind, that was my coffee!
At around 10 am, leaving Mo to his favourite activities of mixing and pouring cement, sawing wood and banging nails into it, I head for the beach.
A Western Barbados Beach
An Eastern Barbados Beach
In Barbados, the western beaches are very different from the eastern ones. On the West side facing the Gulf of Mexico, most of the beaches look like postcards, with calm and turquoise waters, palm trees and warm pink sand.
The Crane beach where I’m going is about a mile walk from my father’s house, and it’s on the East coast, facing the Atlantic. With its dark waters, crashing waves, white pink sands and meagre greens battered by salty winds, this beach is the kingdom of crabs and weeds. In late afternoon the local fishermen anchor their boats in the cove and float ashore their nets full of fish.
The walk there from Mo’s house is almost straight through sun-parched fields topping a sea-carved cliff where great waves crash and explode, sometimes a hundred feet high. The trail goes by the house of Rachel, a friend of Mo, who raises goats and has a lovely little white dog.
The way down the cliff is a hundred steps stairway made of unequal flat rocks, meandering down a colourful vegetation of bushes and bright little yellow flowers, red bougainvillea, tropical greens and small caves filled with bats. Those bats are so funny, sleeping head down, hanging to the rock, so close that I could touch them!
In those days there was hardly ever anyone on Crane Beach as June was off-season and the locals and tourists preferred the warmer western beaches. So, seeking solitude, I spent lots of time there with a good book and my walkman.
* * * * *That morning, Rachel’s little white dog decided to follow me, capering around me and nosing about, enchanting me with its gentle loving eyes and its joyfulness.
The beach was slightly different from usual: the sand was pushed up, the fishermen’s boats were anchored and not at sea, and there was a sign post loosely attached that I didn’t understand.
I settled down on the fine, white-pink sand sparkling in the sunlight. Like every morning, my towel rolled onto itself, pushed by the wind; I propped it with my shoes and bag. After a moment of rest under the sun, laughing at the funny jumps of the little white dog running after butterflies, I proceeded into the water up to my knees, waiting for the next wave.
Yeah! The sea is strong today; the wave lifts me, carries me sideways and finally puts me down on the sand. On its way back, the water sculpts the sand around my feet, making them sink deeper and deeper. Delightful sensations!
And then SHE came, the Huge Wave that carried me away.
I have no memory of the first time, the very first time my right shoulder dislocated.
I remember that at age 9, I had gotten so used to it that I kind of knew what to do. In the school yard, playing ball, suddenly a violent pain would traverse my shoulder and suffocate me. Then I couldn’t use my arm anymore and the smallest movement was unbearable
I often told the teacher and my mother about this. Their answer was: “The doctor said that if it was really dislocated, you could not put it back yourself, you would have to go to the hospital so the doctors could fix it”.
So every time it happened I felt very lonely, believing I could only count on myself. I went deeply inward, eyes closed. Supporting my right arm with my left hand, I relaxed as much as I could and brought all my attention to the disjointed bones and ligaments. With my focused intent I commanded every attaching tissue to loosen the horrible spasm. I imposed upon my martyred joint the absolute certitude of resetting itself into place. I could think of nothing else and held this unique thought in me, in a surrendering attitude mixed with despair.
Then I would surprise myself by taking unusual postures that I didn’t decide of, as if my body knew what to do. Sometimes lying down on the ground rolling slowly on myself, sometimes against a wall or a fence, I had succeeded replacing it myself until then.
By June 1986, I estimate that my right shoulder had dislocated for more or less 200 times since my childhood. This is the pain that exceeds any and all other pains I have ever felt in my life.
So every time I would find myself at risk of being hustled or hurt my first reflex was to protect my shoulder by holding my right arm on my chest with my left hand.
THREE OF TWELVE
Alcoholic Anonymous is based on a twelve steps program, twelve philosophical rules meant to induce a healthy way of life. The purpose of this program is to fight the addiction to drugs and alcohol and make one’s life better. In 1966, when I was around twelve years old, this program was introduced in my family. After a period of resistance to change, we all started to loosely apply it.
The first three AA steps are something like this:
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and drugs, and that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to reason.
3. We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
My greatest resistance was my fear of God. I was fascinated and terrified by God, just like I was fascinated and terrified by horror movies. So how could I turn my life over to the care of God?
In my catholic missal the omnipotent God was outside of the heart of people and always judging everyone. He was associated with sins, punishments and martyrs. Ah, those martyrs, almost all the names of the people around me were saint canonized martyrs’ names! So if they think that I’m going to trust God to be burnt or hacked alive… I was so afraid.
In my weekly discussion group there was a young man called Francois. He explained things to me, comforted me and reassured me. With time I started applying the steps and seeing results in my life.
In the late 70’s my father wrote his famous book “How to Become Happy without Going Crazy”, a little jewel describing an evolution of the AA program suitable for all people. The three first steps of Mo’s program are:
1. We have admitted that we live in anxiety and that we have lost the control of our life.
2. We have hoped that a power greater than ours can restore us to sanity.
3. We have decided to surrender to a God of Love as we conceive it to be.
Since the 80’s I have applied this regularly, sometimes absentmindedly, throughout my daily life. These were times when I could conceive that God was in me, that he (male) was something or someone else than me, in me.
KIDNAPPED BY THE SEA
It took me some time to realize that the sea had really carried me away. I thought that the wave would bring me back to the shore, as usual, nope! I found myself knocked over, kneaded and propelled by a moving force. And as I was holding my right arm with my left hand to protect my shoulder, I could only swim with my legs.
The long passing of the Coral Reef was the worst. The waves crashed on me rhythmically, hammering me down the rugged coral and sandy bottom that scratched my skin. My eyes became irritated with the salt, I kept them shut.
It was rhythmic so I started counting: one-two-three seconds to breathe, the wall of water crashes on me, I push on the bottom with my legs, come up, one-two-three seconds to catch my breath, again and again.
I did try to dive into the wave, but it was really big and without arms I didn’t have enough momentum to make it across. I just ended up loosing the rhythm.
At one point the forces in movement got so powerful that I felt the back of my head touch my lower back. I was supple. I had no time to think, no time to hurt, no time to be afraid, one-two-three…
Spontaneously at every dive my mind started reciting my favourite three steps: “I admit that I now live in anxiety and that I have lost control of my life”, “I hope that a Power greater than mine can help me now”, “I surrender to that Loving Power”.
* * * * *As soon as I got kidnapped by the sea, Rachel’s lovely little white dog came to a halt on the beach facing me and started howling loudly. At every ascent I searched for him and our gaze met. Then he would raise his open snout to the sky and I could hear him howl louder than the uproar of the water and the wind.
One-two-three, take a deep breath, the wave falls on me and crushes me onto the bottom, “I surrender to my God of Love”, push on the bottom with my foot, “who can save me now”, back to the surface, look at the dog, take a deep breath, one-two-three, again and again.
How long was I caught in the turbulence, I couldn’t say.
* * * * *I gradually became aware that I had made it through the coral barrier and that I was gently lulled by enormous mountains of water moving up and down, who didn’t crash on me anymore. Staying afloat with a lazy movement of my legs, recovering some strength, I finally was able to let my poor stiff arms relax.
This is where my thinking brain started functioning again. What…? What am I doing here? And where am I? I looked for Barbados Island, oh my God, it was so tiny! I couldn’t see palm trees or beaches anymore, only a land far away.
Then I realized I was going to die.
The chances that a plane, a boat or anyone on the island caught sight of me were null. I’m going to drown. All right! It’s not such a bad death after all. I understood that fighting the situation would only make it painful. Cornered by the sea, since I had no choice, I deeply accepted. I surrendered totally, the same way I had surrendered when my shoulder dislocated.
There was an invisible small ball of energy, a loving presence within me, observing me. I thought it was normal when you’re about to die.
Barbados Fishing Boats
AGAINST THE CURRENT
As I was floating, I started observing the water: the power of the current pushing me was noticeable. The water between me and the island had a direction and a speed obvious to the naked eye. I understood now why there were no fishing boats at sea today, and the meaning of the sign post on the beach: currents too strong for navigation.
I didn’t want to think about my upcoming death, because then my body would contort in distress, it absolutely did not want to die. So I just thought of nothing… the void… the nothingness… absence of emotion, of thought.
After a while, pictures appeared in the void of my mind, images of the Loving God I had surrendered to. Then came the picture of the little white dog, was he still howling for me on the beach? I believed not, but I still felt his presence by me, and because that thought made me feel better, I allowed the souvenir of the “little white dog on the beach looking at me and waiting for me” pervade my whole being. I accepted to die in his imaginary company. It prevented me from considering all that I was going to lose, all the ones I loved and would never see again. It prevented me from suffering.
Floating on my back, eyes lost in the blue of the sky, I allowed myself to drift in the great rocking water cradle, peacefully focusing my thoughts on the little white dog. Then I noticed something strange: the current was stampeding away form the island, but my body was moving closer to it. I believed it was an illusion, smiled, doubted… until I realized I was back at the coral reef and the waves were starting to crash over me again.
I had to resume the rhythm, breathe and count. Every time I hit the bottom, I started repeating again: “I surrender to my Loving God who can save me now” but this time there was hope in my heart.
Who knows how long it took before I was able to open my swollen eyes and look around me between two crashing waves? Oh my God, I could hardly believe it! I was brought back directly where I had been carried away: Crane Beach was a bright spot at the foot of the cliff and I was straight in front of it.
I was incapable of swimming. My legs were so tired that they could barely move and I was still grasping my numb right arm. Even after I lost the capacity to say the words, I still was able to count and breathe. The water was rough and I was exhausted, but I ineluctably got closer and closer to the beach.
Suddenly I saw him! O my God, the dog was still there, joy-crazy when he saw me! How can I describe the extraordinary feeling that flowed through me? There he is my wonderful little white dog, my beacon, my hope, my anchor… oops! One-two-three…
With renewed energy I started fighting against the sea, trying to swim towards the beach, but every time I did that I lost ground. Then as soon as I surrendered and put the picture of the dog in my mind, I got closer to him.
How many times did I clutch my toes into the sand, only to be irresistibly carried away? But there he was, barking, running and jumping and encouraging me. I focused on him and progressed steadily. Finally I managed to drag myself to the safety of the warm sands.
Did I loose consciousness? When I woke up the little dog was gone.
The sun sets rapidly in Barbados. I had just enough time to reach home before night. I walked slowly, in a numb sensation of weightlessness, fatigue and gratitude. My starving father welcomed me to supper. Oh, I was so hungry!
WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?
For the subsequent years, I put to the archives of my mind the memory of this adventure, because I was incapable of making sense out of it. Indeed, what is the probability that someone: • carried away at sea by a strong marine current, • incapable of swimming with her arms, • makes it through the turbulence of the coral reef and drifts to high sea, • then is visibly being pulled up against the current, • survives the crossing back of the reef despite exhaustion, • finds herself returned to the same beach, • lands to safety six or seven hours later, and finally • finds the little dog still there?
In 2007 at Ramtha’s School of Enlightenment, while eating at Charlie’s restaurant, I shared the memory of my adventure at sea with a fellow student named Ron. My story moved him a lot, and he reminded me of what Ramtha had been teaching us for years. Ron said:
- “When you put a picture in your frontal lobe and you are totally present to this picture long enough, without any association of thought, time, desire or objection, your body will automatically and necessarily attract or be attracted to live the experience of this picture. The human being is the only creature having this power”.
When Ron told me that it all became clear. I said to Ron: “I will have to write that story one day”.
Ramtha teaching about the brain.
The first week of March 1991 I went back to Barbados for a vacation, at the now completed Mo’s castle, of course.
Mo had bought teachings of Ramtha on video and audiotapes and was listening to them every morning during breakfast and all evening long before going to bed. Ramtha’s message moved me in ways I had not experienced before. When I came back to Montreal I bought a videotape for myself called “The Power to Manifest” and Mo lent me some audio tapes for my car.
I listened to Ramtha’s teachings regularly for 7 years, then, in September 1998, I went to Ramtha’s School of which I have been an active student since.
at the Ramtha's School of Enlightenment
in Yelm, Washington
WHAT IS RAMTHA'S FIELDWORK?
Fieldwork is a powerful discipline engineered by Ramtha for creating reality by focusing on a dream in the midst of distractions until it is manifested.
The students draw on a white blank card what they want to manifest or experience in their life, then put this card in a plastic bag to protect it from the weather.
Then the students exchange cards between themselves many times to make sure they loose track of their own, ending up holding an unknown card that they must not look at. Each card is to be clamped on the fence of a large closed field, with the picture of the card facing the fence and the blank back of the card facing them.
Standing in the field, the students blindfold their eyes and focus on their card. When the picture of their card is clear in their frontal lobe they start walking, holding the picture at all times while walking towards their dream, until they touch the fence.
If there is a card under their hand on the fence they may look at it. If they have found their own card then it is taped on their chest like a trophy. If they find someone else’s card they leave it there, put their blindfold back down and resume walking/focusing.
Fieldwork may be challenging in the beginning, you know, walking for hours blindfolded in a large field with hundreds of blindfolded people focusing on their own dream and bumping into each other more or less gently.
The heat in the summer, the cold rain/snow of winter, the mud, the crowd of blindfolded students and the rocky uneven ground represent the adversity we are walking through to accomplish our dream.
As long as our monkey mind is running amuck in our brain we trip, bump, get kicked and pushed and find nothing on the fence. But as we walk and become more and more focused, the darkness in our eyes brings the peace of melatonin, our energy rises with our breath, our card becomes clearer in our mind and a funny thing happens: we bump no more, trip no more, and if we do it doesn’t bother us anymore. We are suspended in a state of now, a state of wilful observation, our thinking mind has stopped… and we touch the fence… and there is our card!
Sometimes when I find my card I don’t recognize it right away, so deep in bliss rests my mind. Then there are no words to describe the sensation, the elation that overwhelms me as I scream: “Yeaaaah! I found my card!”
I found six cards in the field of a Retreat in Mexico. Here I am wearing them on my chest.
THE “FOOTBALL PLAYER”
I was initiated in Fieldwork during my Beginning Event in September 1998.
Because I didn’t know what to draw on my card I decided to ask my God and let the picture come. It was a symbol that I didn’t understand but it made me feel great.
I put the card in its protective bag, exchanges were made and out to the field we went. I don’t remember if we were 300 or 500 participants at that event but it was something between those numbers.
I was excited and joyful like a child about to play a new game. I walked across the field, clamped the card in my hand onto the fence rail, and then following instructions I put my blindfold on my eyes and started focusing on my symbol. When it became clear in my mind I started walking and… bumped into a plump lady who seemed as surprised as I was… we laughed… hihihi…!
For the first half-hour, I believe my focus was on everything but my card. It was on the sun heat on my head and next time I’ll bring a hat, it was on walking slowly enough not to hurt myself or anyone, on people’s odours, on the staff giving us instructions, on my breath, on the fence I just bumped into, on this last card I just walked to and it was so much like what I was thinking about.
After a while my focus cleared, my inner silence broadened and I was walking in comfort, like in a cocoon.
Suddenly I heard loud, heavy steps approaching rapidly. The thought “a football player?” crossed my mind and before I could protect myself I was knocked violently and almost fell to the ground. As the loud steps ran away from me, pain stabbed my right shoulder.
Oh no, not again, not here!
Okay no, my shoulder was not dislocated, but it was bruised. My state of mind was very different now: I was afraid of this field, and at the same time I knew that focusing on fear would attract predators. And it did. Even as I was focusing on my card, my whole body was focused on avoiding the “football players”. When the staff called the field I was in tears.
During the evening meal I asked other students what to do. If I do Fieldwork in fear I’m going to end up hurting myself, because this is the field where we create reality. I don’t want to get a dislocated shoulder! And I want to find my card in the field!
No one had a clue, or seemed to care.
Later in the evening I asked the staff lady that Ramtha seemed to praise more than the others what I should do in the field, because I was so afraid of dislocating my shoulder and my fear would probably create just that. She looked at me with wide eyes and probably only saw a victim in me. She got up, said “I’m out of here” and walked away.
WHY DON'T YOU MAKE A CARD ABOUT IT?
During the before-bedtime break I went to the Mess Hall to get a snack and was munching besides a beautiful oriental looking young woman called Robin. I ended up telling her about my worry and she said:
- “Why don’t you make a card about it?”
- “What do you mean?” I asked.
- “Well, ask your God what symbol you could focus on when you are afraid in the field, draw that symbol on a card and put in on the fence. Then when you do Fieldwork, focus on your main card. But when fear rises in you, start focusing on your other symbol that your God gave you to protect you.”
What a splendid, ingenious, brilliant, God-like suggestion coming from this kind, timid and lovely woman! I did just that.
The symbol my God gave me to protect me was a triad with the infinity sign at the bottom. I put it on the fence myself at the start of the following Fieldwork, and it worked quite well. Every time fear rose in me I focused on my second symbol and a state of calm fell over me.
That Fieldwork lasted for over five hours. The quality of my focus was building up. I was walking in a warm cocoon of energy, gently bumping with people regularly but every time it was scary I focused on my infinity triad.
Suddenly I heard him come, my “football player”, his feet stomping the ground fast in my direction, his heavy breath panting. The coldness of fear took me over; I stood still, frozen, and brought my protective symbol to my mind as my left hand was protectively holding my right arm to my chest.
To this day I don’t explain exactly what happened: in a moment he was running into me, and a fraction of a second later he was running away from me in the opposite direction, as if he had passed through me. I was there, standing, intact.
I resumed walking/focusing, and it happened again, but this time he seemed to bounce on my cocoon and he didn’t touch me. And it happened again, and again. And my focus deepened from one card to the other. And I found my first card on the fence and it was taped to my chest.
Robin and me rejoiced and danced and laughed with so much gratitude that night, celebrating my card taped like a trophy on my T-shirt.
MAKING SENSE OF MY EXPERIENCE
I understand now what I did on the ocean. Having emptied my mind of all thoughts and focusing on the little white dog on Crane Beach, I was floating in a warm cocoon of energy that pulled me towards my dream against the current. Had I continued my monkey-mind thinking on the water, I would probably not be here today.
Today life seems to me like a constant Fieldwork. If I live the day without creating it or without any focus, I get carried away by the currents of the environment, my monkey thinking and my old habits. But when I create my day and regularly focus on my creation throughout the day, it’s like focusing on the little white dog, I always land to warm sands.
Thank you for reading this story. May your days be blessed with blue love, great health, personal evolution and fabulous joy.
FIELDWORK ON THE OCEAN
This story is real. I wrote it to the best of my memory and I want it one day
to be published in paper form with others of the same spirit.
I have decided to give it freely,
because I believe this is the commercial ways of the future:
everything is free to get, and you only pay afterwards
for what it's been worth to you.
I accept donations to pay for the publishing of this small book.
I accept small contributions from those of you who enjoyed it and were inspired by it.
I joyfully and gratefully will also accept all your fabulous gifts.
Ramtha® and Fieldwork® are trademarks of JZ Knight and are used with permission.
JZ Knight and JZK, Inc., do not necessarily endorse or support any of the views or commentaries, in part or in whole, expressed in this publication by its authors and editors.
For more information about Ramtha’s teachings contact: Ramtha’s School of Enlightenment, a division of JZK, Inc., P.O. Box 1210, Yelm, WA 98597, USA. www.ramtha.com