When you land on a song line – sing!
All time being concurrent is a quantum theory that is hard to prove.
Experiencing it first hand sends you quite mad.
When I saw a dinosaur at Uluru, I’m pretty sure the tourists snapping the rock couldn’t – nor could they see the clever man sitting on the rock grinning at me.
Fourteen years later a young indigenous man approached me and said; “Watch out for the black fella with the red headband - he’s got some stories for you”.
Eleven years later the black fella with the red head band materialised.
“Where were you when you got the message?” The white-bearded elder asked.
“Callen Park.” I sheepishly replied (being an inpatient at a mental hospital is not something I usually publicise).
He laughed, slapped his knee and said, “It’s a bit overwhelming when it all comes down at once isn’t it?”
That was the start of my beautiful and magical friendship with Jrumpinginbah.
A friendship hundreds of thousands of years in the making.
And the start of an understanding that really can’t be explained.
I think my psychiatrist got closest; “In ancient times, you’d have been set down in the middle of the village and cared for till the visions subsided.”
But in a world where the spiritual has been taken over by crackpots trying to rationalise the inexplicable, no-one knows how to handle a real oracle. And there’s no guide book on how to be one.
You have to find the teacher.
Fortunately, they come along when the student is ready.
Jrumpinjinbah proved that the ‘figments of my imagination’ were real.
On that visit to Uluru all those years before, I took a large crystal to cleanse in the red earth under a full moon. I buried it at midnight and went back to my hotel. As I lay in bed, two warriors in full ochre appeared out of nowhere and asked me what I’d put in their ground and why?
“Oh, that was you? We’ve been looking for you.” Jrumupinjinbah chortled “Got something for you.”
The next day he turned up with an amethyst that had washed up on his beach.
I never told him it was an amethyst I buried all those years ago.
I didn’t have to.
In an instant, I learned how to work with my gift.
The last time I went ‘mad’ was five years ago, I ended up in hospital because of an Ariana Grande video.
Imagine being a mother watching a cheesy pop video and feeling the pain of a bomb exploding in an auditorium filled with girls your daughter’s age.
Try making sense of that.
You can’t.
Only time can do that.
The wibbly-wobbly kind.