The Green City of Europe
Water parks surround the city
21st Cathedral being built as if it's 14th century Gothic
14th century Gothic cathedral with 21st century modernisations
Ken Follett from Wales
Vitoria, the capital of the Basque Country in Spain, is beautiful. Encircled by snow-capped mountains, the centre was built over rivers, and the airport built over lakes! Surrounding the city are interlinked parks, waterways and gardens, to enhance quality of life. The massive medieval city center is pedestrianized, with cherry trees in blossom. Even the trams run on grass. No wonder Vitoria was voted the 2012 Green Capital of Europe.
Unusually, the city has two cathedrals - the old Gothic Cathedral of Santa Maria built in the 14th century and the new Gothic styled Cathedral of Mary Immaculate due to be finished in the 21st century!
Prince Charles would argue the new cathedral should have modern designs, and the old cathedral replicate old designs. The intriguing and sad things is, the new cathedral is being built like an old one, and the old cathedral restored like a new one. :-(
Global experts study the old cathedral's "deformations suffered due to previous restorations".
Gosh - you should see the deformations being suffered during current "restoration"!
For example an old rotten staircase was recently replaced with modern open stairs of polished wood and steel. Already it's showing signs of age! Within 50 years, it will deteriorate and look ugly and outdated.
After climbing this out-of-place wood and steel modern thing, you then climb a wonderful ancient staircase, proudly claimed by the guide as original. Horrid. Why not rebuild the other staircase like the original?
The new 21st century cathedral can have the new modern staircase!
I 100% love awe-inspiring unusually designed modern skyscrapers, such as London's spectacular "Gherkin" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/30_St_Mary_Axe
And check out the amazing London views from this stunning new building, the "Shard". http://www.theviewfromtheshard.com/
But also I truly love artistic ancient architecture. If old buildings are not restored as the original, what can we show generations to come?
At least the cathedral gains big income. Visitors pay over $10 to don a safety helmet for a guided tour. That's about $2 million a year for the past 10 years! "Restoration" doesn't look like it'll finish this century. There's too big an income.
The famous Welsh writer Ken Follett http://ken-follett.com/biography/
was fascinated when he visited the cathedral, and used the cathedral for a plot in a book. The cathedral was so grateful, they built a life-size bronze statue to him.
Perhaps some good can come from old-to-new architecture...
Mandalas are sacred, circles of energetic colours and shapes. A personal mandala has something extra. The ability to help someone's life.
I met Margie in Adelaide. Her mandalas were marvellous, with potential as therapy tools. So I helped her tune in to a friend's stomach problem, and create a brightly coloured design specifically for healing the stomach.
Margie now creates personalised mandalas via Skype video. You converse with Margie, which she translates into symbolic visions as the mandala is drawn.
As Margie drew my mandala, she saw me enter a golden light, and disappear. A good outcome, some might say. :-)
A mandala is metaphoric language to connects people to their soul journey. Tuned-in people gain quite a response. Through simplicity intricacies are revealed, insights of intense magnitude to help in countless ways..
Margies Mandalas is now a global force. Her new website isn't finished, but is worth checking out. http://www.margiesmandalas.com/
Great Christmas presents!! Including a 2013 calendar of beautiful healing mandalas.
Mediate here for beauty
Contemplate this for love
Just a small part of the gallery
Think of this if strength is needed
Angels have historical significance in art. It's almost as if one could track the rise of consciousness in a civilisation by when they painted angels. Currently our world is experiencing another gentle explosion in angelic understanding. And as usual that includes an increase in angelic art.
Yesterday I visited the most beautiful art gallery I've ever seen.
"Galerie des Anges" is in Alet les Bains. If ever you're in South West France, and need an uplifting, inspiring experience, here it is! Lorraine Coffey, the Irish artist,
looks like an angel herself. Her vision through her work is to inspire, uplift, and bring comfort.
Paintings are all of angels, performing their tasks to help humanity. For example the Angel of Love is shown sharing LOve, the Angel of Peace shares Peace, and the Angel of Abundance shares that energy. A brief inspirational piece of writing is beside each painting.
You can sit in the gallery, and meditate in front of the angel and writing you need to help your life that day. Tears fell from some of the visitors. I didn't offer help. The angels already had.
It's a good place to have this gallery. The area is beautiful, but has negative history that still needs healing. French people who supported the German invasion in World War 2 are still ostracised nowadays. Angels spreading their wings of love are just what this area needs.
The Queen of Denmark visited and was so delighted, she's funding this exhibition to open in Jutland, Denmark. Jutland is where Hitler had a bunker, so perhaps angels are needed there too.
People travel from around the world to this gallery. But of course, they're people interested in angels.
This gallery should be in New York, Paris or London, attracting the masses who don't believe in angels but follow art. Many would be desperate for help in their lives. Unknowingly, they also may then be positively touched by the presence of highest angels.
Teadora’s Magic Story Book (that's what she wanted us to call it).
This is a 5-year old girl’s story of how she came to Earth...
Last night, five-year old Teadora explained how she died in her previous life; what happened between that life and this; and how she entered her mother’s tummy. She’d come from her bath relaxed and happy, cuddled up to her mom, and talked.
I was really interested. Most parents drum past life memories out of the child. Parents tend not to believe, so children soon forget – or argue with parents who don’t understand them.
Teadora remembered everything, and her mom just accepted lovingly. I simply asked questions, and Teadora responded earnestly, seriously, seemingly honestly.
To summarize, in her previous life she’d been making pictures with her mom. There was a war, when her city was destroyed by men who didn’t care.
She then went to Sivera, a place just for single moms and children who die unexpectedly and need a place for comfort, healing, and learning.
Later she met God who said in a deep voice her new mom was calling her to enter her tummy. She knew her mom would have $10 million and would give her lots of toys. (Her current mom works for a millionaire toy company!)
And, she remembered her grandfather who died, and was then in someone else’s tummy – re-incarnated?
Here’s 5 year old Teadora’s story, which I wrote down word for word as she spoke...
“I was in another country, with a different mom. I was making pictures with that mom when the city was knocked down. He didn’t stop and he didn’t even want to see the city again.
“Then there was like a shooting star, named like a fairy, a Fayrrrrrrr.” Teadora rolled the rrrrrrr at the end of the word. We tried to repeat it, and roll the rrrrrrr too. Teadora watched our tongues, before continuing. “A Fayrrrrrrr is a thing that shoots in the sky.”
We tried to say Fayrrrrrrr, but obviously didn’t get it right. “No,” she said, firmly and seriously. “Not Fayre, Fayrrrrrrr. Put your tongue right here.” She touched one finger high on the roof of her mouth, and watched as we tried to put our tongues there too, before she continued. “A Fayrrrrrrr is a kind of thing I knew but don’t know anymore.” I looked at her. “You’re writing my story. Write that down.” I did.
“Then I was in Sivera. There was no-one there but single children and moms. No brothers, no sisters, no aunts, no uncles, no granddads, no grandmas, nobody except single children and moms. I was there with a different mom. There were lots of stores there, but not like our stores. They had rainbow ice-cream, and I tasted it. It tasted like chocolate.
“In Sivera it never became night-time, because God is night-time. It just looked like night-time with lots of stars.
“Then I was with God and waiting for mom to wish me in her tummy. I saw God and he was a rainbow colour, and he got to see me. I made a huge rainbow of all the pictures I’d made with the mom I had before. I saw you, a lot skinnier than you are now. You had $10 million in a big bag, so you could buy me lots of toys. I was happy.
"Then I was on a magic ice-cream rainbow hill. God told me (here, Teadora spoke in a strangely deep voice.) ‘Keep still. Stay here.’ Then God said, ’Your mom is calling you to come in her tummy.’ This is the sound mom made when she was calling me.” (Teadora made high-pitched, lilting sounds, in waves.)
“I did stuff when I was born... I don’t know... I ate (pretend) rainbow ice-cream and played with my friends.
“I talk to Grandpa now when he’s not very tired. Grandpa looks at me everywhere when he’s in God. He comes back in my dreams, not in my real dreams.
"When I was with God, someone wished Grandpa, and he was then in someone’s tummy.”
Wow. If we all had such memories, and mothers encouraged their children to remember more, what a different world we would live in. Maybe a better world if we all remembered being with God...
Dianna, the beautiful angelic soul I stayed with, designs packaging for a doll company. So I mentioned an idea I had in my 20s for a family of dolls. There's still nothing like it. Dianna suggested criteria for a brief business proposal, and I wrote it up.
Later, guess what? Dianna's boss asked his staff for ideas for a new range of dolls, as a family! :-)
As if that wasn't synchronicity enough, later still I met Anthony, a graphic artist, who sketched the first doll family ideas.
Dianna, Anthony and I think we're onto something. Before we give the idea away for free to Dianna’s company, please email if you know someone who might want the idea. You can share any profits!
Synchronicity is a marvellous force. :-)
As soon as Jonas played his b flat clarinet, I knew he’d be a maestro. This was most exciting. I'm used to helping cancer patients become pain-free, or teaching Angels on Earth about their souls. But I've only had one previous chance to teach a musician to be totally clairaudient, and hear and play the music of all he sees. Level 1
“Look at this crimson red cushion for a few minutes,” I said.
“Now as you look at the colour, feel the energy of the colour inside you for a few minutes.”
“Yes, I can feel it.”
“And now, if that feeling of that colour had a sound of music, what music would it sound like?”
“I think I can hear music.”
“So, play the music on your clarinet.”
Beautiful, slow, low tones, rising to quiet, lilting crescendos wafted around the room.
Jonas's mother came from another room and stared. “What was that?” she asked when he’d finished. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful. I never come out while you’re playing. Where’s the music sheet you read from?”
“There’s no music sheet,” I said. “I’m teaching him to play the sound of crimson red.”
I was excited. I feel colours, and his “music” was perfect. He needs to realise he’s brilliant.
“Give me a high ten,” I said, holding up both hands.
“Now let’s try this purple colour.” A different sound echoed around the room, mostly as haunting as the first. We agreed he didn’t get it right on two small sections so we gave a high eight.
“Focus harder on this bright yellow material,” I said. He produced fast, chirpy, upbeat sounds, worthy of a high ten again. Level 2
I explained to Jonas that Ancient Egyptian doctors were musicians. Then taught him to hear music from a localised illness, play the sound, and heal the condition. He projected music he heard of his mother’s painful hip into the pain, to cancel the frequency of the illness. Severity reduced by 60% in 15 minutes. This boy is amazing!! A total natural. Level 3
This was how to hear music of shapes I drew. Shapes are Fourier mathematics, and Pythagoras said mathematics is harmonics. Jonas played the shape’s harmonics. It was perfect again. I took out a CD, 'Reiki Symbols in Sound'. “That shape was played on this CD I recorded with Paul Chenouer. You played identical sounds to Paul.”http://routenote.com/music/PaulCheneourandAllanJ.Sweeney/ReikiHealingSymbolsinSound/5051813181474
Jonas played the sounds he heard from three more symbols I drew, then compared them to Paul’s three tracks. Each had identical rhythms and tones. Level 4
Later his sister, Bianca, drove us to Los Angeles famous Venice Beach. “Bring your clarinet, please,” I said. “I’ll teach you Level 4.” Jonas sat in the back as I explained how not
to hear one frequency in a person, like a painful hip. Instead to hear the general combined frequency of an entire person.
He tuned in to Bianca first. She felt her slight depression lift; then felt relaxed, then happy.
When he played my energy, I felt the increasing speed of his notes start from my feet, and rise towards my head, taking sadness from my heart, and love out to the universe.
Jonas suddenly sounded down. “I’m not sure about all this. It’s probably just placebo. I doubt I can really play people’s energy.”
God works in mysterious ways. We parked the car, and had not even reached the beach before a lady asked, “What’s that you’re carrying, young man?”
“A clarinet,” Jonas replied.
“I know that,” the lady said.
“I’ve taught Jonas how to play the music of everyone he meets,” I said. “Would you like him to play yours?”
Within minutes, tears streamed down the strangers face. Slowly she smiled. Then laughed. The testimonial she wrote speaks for itself. “After a whole day of tears, questioning my life, Jonas brought tears to smiles, and smiles to hope. Thank you. Kathryn.”
She gave her phone number and email for validation.
Jonas was all smiles, albeit incredulous ones.
Venice beach is a hippy paradise. People openly carry posters asking for drugs. Countless hippy traders line the promenade. One carved names into sandstone. As he carved a name for me, I explained Jonas’s gift. “Would you like him to play your energy as you work?”
Soon after he felt the 'music' heal his inner energy field, he stopped work, and stared straight head. Slowly, smiles spread across his face. After, Tony wrote a testimonial too. “Jonas gave me energy and confidence. I think you’re onto something! Here’s my phone number.”
The third person I asked wore white robes and turban, and sold Oms and spiritual gifts. Jonas played high, fast, rolling sounds, as the man sat, eyes closed, in trance. After he said, “This opened my third eye. The energy danced around me, like a vortex going up my upper body. White Light came in from above to relax and heal everything within me. Swami Gee is my name. I teach yoga and meditation. It was really surprising.” He gave his phone number
Jonas had a strange stunned-pleased look.
“That was your synchronicity of three,” I said. “If three things happen in quick succession, it’s a possible Destiny to follow.” As if to prove the synchronicity of three, we tried one more lady as we bought pizza. She said, “No thanks.”
“Three shows a possible Destiny,” I repeated. “I’ll help you record a CD called ‘Sounds of a Rainbow,’ and help design your website as a music therapist.”
(1775–1851) is Britain's greatest landscape artist. Known as "the painter of light" he is regarded as starting Impressionism. Last year in my home town Margate, "Turner Gallery" was built to honour his works.
First year projections were for 140,000 visitors. But 140,000 came in two months - 500,000 in a year! You'd love it too!
So there we were, looking at a Turner painting (see link above). I joked, "That chalk cliff on the left looks like this new Turner Centre. Maybe Turner had a prophetic vision."
A security guard aged about 30 nearby said, "Yes, a few other have said that!"
An energy force entered me from his voice. I recognise his vibration
I looked deeply at his physiognomy and phrenology. Hmm. He looks and feels like a member of my family.
I peered at his name badge, too small to read without getting too close for comfort. "What's your name," I asked.
"Hello," I said. "We're family!"
"How?" he asked, looking puzzled.
"Your father is my cousin. You're my second cousin!"
I hadn't seen him since he was five. We chatted about family history. His father and our family are jokers, so I couldn't resist a parting joke. Thanks for the chat. It took ages for me to research your family. My gang should have stolen the paintings by now..." :-)
He laughed. He knows our family's silly humour.
For my many overseas readers, I'll describe a little about my day in London yesterday. It might tempt you to come here. YES, YOU! :-)
Despite London housing 8 million people in the largest urban zone in Europe, walking in London is special. Everything is so close! And if you feel energy, you'll feel all energies here!
My day started with a meeting at the Royal Society of Medicine. The building's energy was epitomised by numerous high-powered microscopes where you could look through, seriously, and seek answers. (At a previous meeting in the House of Lords, energy was epitomised by massive paintings of important historical figures - a focussed energy, of getting things done.) I presented my ideas to radically change the healthcare system in the UK. More on that later...
Walking through Oxford and Regent Streets, energy is internal, of self-thought, what to buy in the massive designer clothes and computer centres. In Carnaby Street (famous for 1960s Beatles and fashion) lighter interactive energy comes from the hive of light-hearted fashion shops and eateries. And in Piccadilly Circus, Leicester and Trafalgar Squares, and China Town, a multi-cultural mix have a wondering, sight-seeing, awe-inspired energy.
My favourite is Covent Garden's quirky shops, intriguing market stalls, and free open-air shows. They attract energies of quirky, intriguing, free people. Yesterday, the opera singer and street magician were worth visiting London for!
The Poets Society Cafe was hub of provocative, thoughtful, fun energy. Comments made by six men, mainly one lovably loud man, were the energy of poetry! One just HAS to jot down impromptu humour, the energy of life.
"I'm writing on 'How to sniff your own socks'."
"I'm writing on puzzles, like 'How do you approach a group of four?'"
"We can't all be good socially, so I prefer word of mouse."
"Networking groups are for those who are socially backward."
"It was laughable. I got thrown out of Comic Relief for wearing a tie."
"I got thrown out of a strip club in Geneva. The girl said, do you swear like that at your work mates. I said no, but they don't use a snake like that!"
"She's so sexy, her dimples show through her clothes."
"My autism only comes out when I make love to my girlfriend."
"What does he do except butter toast?"
Great material for an energetically provocative poem! Or a stand-up comic.
You know my humour, so I couldn't resist Poets Cafe banter and soon joined in. One wit handed me his card - Simon Ellis of Chattoon, the Chat and Cartoon show. Go to www.chattoonshow.com - brilliant cutting edge energy. Another blessed man said, "I'm at jeremyjacobs.com - you never know what comes from a chance meeting."
True. I was only walking because my evening appointment was postponed. There are constant synchronistically chance meetings. Only the Gods know what energies will manifest.
I walked to Victoria train station past queues at West End theatres, through the new Savoy Hotel for posh afternoon tea with classical piano and chocolatiers at work, past floating restaurants along the gorgeous River Thames, the Millienium wheel, spectacular architecture of Houses of Parliament / Big Ben / Westminster Cathedral, Duck Island in St James Park, home to flamingos, pelicans etc, barracks of the Horse Guards who wear ceremonial red coats and hussar busby hats, and finally Buckingham Palace, where our Queen dines foreign dignitaries.
If you come to UK, and I'm free, I'll walk you around. I can't guarantee tea with the Queen. But you'll love our energy experiences for life.
I love watching a Master at work, someone brilliant, at the top of their field. Whatever the work is, they struggled to get to the top. They've probably been laughed at, scorned, and put down. Friend or family doubters probably suggested "better work". But they rise above criticism and adversity to become a Master. Respect.
The "lifestyle choice" of a person not yet a Master may seem uncertain to everyone else. But to some they're an apprentice, treading their path towards potential Destiny.
This weekend, Margate's tiny Tom Thumb Theatre housed both apprentice and Master.
I'd met Emily (the apprentice) a few years ago. She'd finished a university drama degree. "What work will you do?" I'd asked. There's high unemployment and poverty among drama students.
"I want to be a storyteller," she said with conviction. I remember her sure, confident, determined energy.
Now she was one of three first-half acts, telling their stories to adults. We chatted after. She's performed at London's Soho Club, and prestigious South Bank. "I'm learning," she said humbly, "to be like Dominic Kelly." Emily is struggling with little money, but treading her path to Mastership Destiny.
Dominic Kelly was the second-half's Master. He crossed boundaries of storytelling, one-man show, and acting. He told of a likeable trickster who slips through life's traps, a "Trickery Master". After police shot him, he found even more ways to trick in the "next life". A true Master of his Trade, albeit a negative one.
Amazing. No-one moved for an hour! Friends enjoyed it more than big theatre. That one Master, with one story, for one hour transfixed them, spellbound.
I know many apprentices treading paths to potential Mastership, following a Master. I often wonder how many will find enough strength to rise above criticism and adversity, and learn enough to master their Master.
And in so doing, fulfil their angelic soul's Destiny on Earth.
I love the sea, my Jacuzzi, anything water. So if I’d known how much water water-painting used, I wouldn’t have waited till now to splosh it in a palette and splash it across paper. My father, mother, and mother’s twin sister paint; my sister helped mental illness as an art therapist. And a relation has a portrait hanging in London’s National Portrait Gallery. So it’s time I checked if my love of water and hereditary art ability could be combined.
‘Does anyone have a question?’ Marilyn Allis the teacher asked. Marilyn had been British champion in an art competition, had her own TV show, and taught on the ship for a free holiday.
‘Yes.’ I replied. ‘I’m a beginner. What’s a brush?’ It was said as a joke, but turned out to be serious.
‘Different sized brushes in the kit you just bought, are not needed.’ She held up a pink-handled brush. Thick ‘bristles’ tapered to a fine point. ‘I had this specially designed and only use this.’
(You can buy it on http://www.marilynallis.com/pages/bio.html
Soon my mug of water was muggy, the box of paints was muggy, and my palette was muggy too. But somehow from the murky depths of mugginess, a brightly coloured Caribbean cockerel appeared on paper, then two children carrying a large pail, a cello player, houses and fields, boats in a calm sea, and the back end of a cow. Class-mates said how good they are. I still feel mugged with embarrassment.
My novice’s 7 secrets of watercolour painting
Secret 1. Sketch outlines with a pencil that’s easy to rub out. My rubber was soon black.
Secret 2. Splosh and dosh clean water across paper first. That’s a fun bit. Leave areas that need to be white, like clouds, dry.
Secret 3. Adding water makes paler shades. Red makes pretty pink. (White is rarely used.)
Secret 4. For background, add watered down pale colours to wet areas. Don’t be scared. Let colours run and meld in the wetness.
Secret 5. Hairdryer the wet paper before adding different or deeper colour. Otherwise sharp lines run and meld too.
Secret 6. At the end, use increasingly deeper shades (less and less water) to add shadows on clothes, objects etc.
Secret 7. After a few days, rub out sketch pencil lines.
There, a crash course of secrets. From today, water is not just my love, it’s my art form. But I’ll probably never be like my relation and hang a painting in the National Portrait Gallery. I'd rather work harder to relieve suffering in the world.