Thirteen-year-old Klara is a modern teenager living in a complicated family situation. Her mother is fixated on herself and making sure her son gets everything he wants. Klara’s father recognizes some of the imbalances in the family but refuses to make any change. Luckily, Klara has an escape. She looks to her star family for emotional sustenance.
This is a highly creative and thoughtful work of young adult (YA), visionary fiction. Klara is a star seed from a distant galaxy. In her dreams (or are they dreams?), she has contact with beings of superior wisdom and knowledge. They give her access to understandings she doesn’t possess in her everyday reality. Of course, living in the 3D world and reconciling the idea of being a star being is difficult for a teenager. Klara soon attracts help from adults who share ideas from Hinduism, Q’ero Shamanism, and Quakerism. All these traditions offer support for Klara as she negotiates the difficult dynamics of her family and the increasingly dark times with her brother. In this way, the book familiarizes the reader with several esoteric wisdom traditions without preaching but making each of them relevant to the spiritual crisis the character faces.
I especially enjoyed the parts of the book that dealt with consciousness, reincarnation, the holographic universe, the interconnectedness of all things, and the idea of a feedback loop. Many of these ideas emanate from ancient tradition and yet modern science is starting to recognize them as well. The Arturian Gate by which Klara takes incarnation reminded me of the “well of forgetting” in some esoteric writings. Similarly, the comemeya necklace activated by thought resonated as a stand-in for the chakra system or perhaps just the heart chakra. There are discussions of Edgar Mitchell, the Schumann resonances, and the idea of an emerging upgrade in human consciousness. Dreams, alternative realities, parallel realities, vibratory fields, beings existing in other dimensions. There are many discussion points opened by the book for seekers to explore.
Ultimately, Klara comes to grips with self-acceptance for where she is in her journey and what forgiveness looks like in the moment. A wonderful book to open hearts and minds reminding us of what our time on earth is all about.
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My visionary works are Into the Land of Snows and Timeless Tulips. Elephants Never Forgotten is Sci-Fi.
(No longer under contract restrictions, I can now share the story freely.)
A Dutch settlement, north of New Amsterdam,
The New World 1638
Father would want me to record this day. I fetched parchment and pen. My soul was hollow as I wrote words unthinkable only days earlier.
Alone, so very alone, I write to stave off the madness that encircles me. My only wish is to hold on long enough to see you return.
Sickness has spread through our village. I am told I must remain indoors so as not to tempt the Devil’s wrath. Watching from my window, I have seen the bodies wrapped in linen and taken behind the village. I know not how long this will continue or who shall succumb next.
Father, it has been too long since I have gazed on your kind countenance. I fervently hope you will hear my prayers and hasten back to your most obedient daughter.
May God have mercy upon us.
The rain had stopped, finally. The gray clouds broke in the afternoon sky as the cab pulled to a stop in front of a house on Lindengracht. Dad jumped from the front seat and hurried to help the driver wrestle the luggage from the trunk. The cab’s dome light came on and threw a beam onto the metallic clasp of Mom’s purse. Lydia caught the glint of the reflected streak and winced. She looked away, but the damage was done. A flickering cascade of broken, mirrored glass danced at her feet. Instinctively, she closed her eyes. Not now, she commanded. Not now.
Moments later, Lydia opened her eyes and found the image gone. She sighed with relief and got out of the cab. Standing near Mom, Lydia gazed at the three-story brick structure and stifled a yawn with her hand. It was more modern than many of the buildings they had passed since their arrival into the garden district, but still old by American standards. The house reminded her of Colonial Williamsburg except that it was very narrow and tightly surrounded by other structures, one building almost melting into the next. She closed her eyes and yawned, opening her mouth wide. Stretching, she thrust her jaw left and right, fighting the effects of jetlag. It had been a long flight from New York City.
Dad deposited Lydia’s wheeled suitcase alongside her and returned to retrieve the rest of the bags. Mom left Lydia to grab her own shoulder-bag and makeup case from the back of the cab. Lydia turned to look at the tree-lined street and remembered from her tour book that many early canals in the area had been filled in. The grassy strip just beyond the paved street was probably one of those former canals. She wondered what it was like to live in a city where water was the main method of travel. Sleepy pictures of Venice floated through her mind as Dad tapped her shoulder indicating he was ready to go inside.
Lydia pulled her suitcase to the bottom edge of the house’s stairway and bumped it up the six steps following Dad. The three of them stood before a massive oak door while Dad dug deep into his pockets for the key. The family would stay in this historic house owned by the company while Dad interviewed with a Dutch publishing firm. His previous job as editor at an independent art book publisher vanished when the company decided to change its product line. Now that company produced novelty books for children.
“It’s got to be here,” Dad said, his Southern accent making the words melt like butter on toast.
Exasperated, Mom stepped forward and reached to help Dad explore his other pants pocket.
Dad playfully slapped her hand as he took a step back. “Not now, Ronni. The child’s watching…” He grinned.
Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m only trying to help.”
Lydia smirked. She’d seen this kind of behavior before. Dad enjoyed these little stabs of humor while Mom was always uncomfortable with them, reacting slightly shocked each time. Maybe if Mom pulled her own joke once in a while Dad would be able to lay off it. But really, Lydia couldn’t see that happening. Her parents’ dynamics just wouldn’t allow it. They’d never change.
“You two aren’t going to do this the whole time we’re here, are you?” Lydia asked.
Dad produced the key that had been hidden in his hand the whole time and reached for the door. Mom raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips as if to say look what I have to put up with.
“Of course not, darling. I, for one, am going to be on my best behavior.” He swung the door open and stood gallantly to the side, allowing the ladies to pass.
Lydia stepped over the threshold and into a darkened room. Directly in front of her, a staircase led to the upper floors, and just to the left, illuminated only by the light from the street, a vase of tulips sat on a pedestal. The creamy white vase was overwhelmed by the vibrant yellow and red flowers that overhung it. The splotch of color momentarily made the entranceway warm and inviting. Dad closed the door and plunged them into darkness.
“How ‘bout some lights?” Lydia asked.
“One second, one second…” Dad slapped at the wall feeling for the light switch.
A click and the overhead light came on.
“Very nice,” Mom said examining the entranceway and taking note of the fresh flowers. A mirror hung on the wall opposite the arrangement. That caught her eye. She stepped forward and peered at herself. Long slender fingers sporting a French manicure smoothed her eyebrows and corrected a bit of stray lipstick. Without taking her eyes off herself, she pulled a brush from her purse and whisked her newly colored blond locks from her face.
“You look beautiful already,” Dad said grabbing her around the waist, embracing her.
“You always say that,” Mom answered.
“Because it’s always true.”
Lydia turned away from the tender moment. She’d seen that many times, too. She abandoned her suitcase and strolled left into the living room. Two large windows brought light in from the emerging sun. A beige room with a fireplace and comfy blue sofas greeted her. She sunk luxuriously into one of them and eyed the coffee table, considering whether to rest her feet on it. Slipping her shoes off, she started to raise her feet, but then Mom entered the room. Her feet stayed on the floor.
Dad poked his head around the corner. “Don’t you want to explore the new digs, Sunshine?” he called to Lydia.
“Sure,” Lydia said pulling herself to her feet.
Mom surveyed the room and stationed herself at the rain-spattered window. “Do you suppose it’ll rain the whole time we’re here?”
Lydia joined her at the window. “The guidebook says that in Amsterdam, it’s raining, just stopped raining, or getting ready to rain. It doesn’t look too bad right now.”
Mom turned and looked at Lydia. She swished Lydia’s long brown hair off her shoulders so that it hung behind.
“I’m waiting,” Dad called.
With practiced motion, Mom pulled a few short tendrils curling in the humidity and smoothed them down behind Lydia’s ears. Lydia felt her mother’s eyes on the strawberry birthmark at her hairline. Starting in pre-school Mom had covered it with makeup and Lydia repeated the behavior mostly out of habit. As her mother reached up, Lydia stepped back and spun around. She ran to meet Dad at the foot of the stairs.
“Race you to the top!”
Lydia gave him her best, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.
“You think I’m too old for it? Just because I’m a little gray and have a little extra weight,” Dad poked his pouch of a tummy, “doesn’t mean I can’t still beat you.”
“I mean, I’m too old for it. Fourteen-year-olds don’t race their fathers anymore.”
Dad sighed, sounding almost hurt. “Sounds like some ridiculous teenager rules! I thought you and I would resist the imposition of silly rules and blaze our own way.”
“Nope,” Lydia said. She started slowly up the stairs.
“I’ve always said that maturity is overrated, and fun should take precedence.”
“That’s not sounding very parental. Don’t let Mom hear you say that.”
Lydia paused at the top of the stairs while her father caught his breath. In his mid-fifties, Miles Bradshaw had begun to show the decade or so that separated him from his wife. As Lydia gained height and maturity, she watched her father become grayer and rounder. His reading glasses had recently become a permanent fixture. And while the physical changes were expected, she more frequently questioned her father’s ability to adapt to her growing up and changing. He should know that ninth graders are beyond racing their fathers up a flight of stairs. Besides, her father always said that being an only child had made her mature beyond her years. So why did he want her to participate in such incredibly childish behavior?
A quick look upstairs revealed three comfortable bedrooms and a small bathroom. From a window in the smallest bedroom, Lydia peered out onto a grassy courtyard framed by laurel bushes. A garden with spring bulbs bloomed alongside the foundation, and in two beds separated by a walkway were rows and rows of tulips.
Dad leaned against the doorframe. “Small, but nice. What do you think?”
“It’s fine,” Lydia answered. She went to the bed and bounced up and down a few times. “What will our new house be like?”
Dad moved to the window. “That depends. Assuming I get the job, we’ll get a place in the country. Big change for us.”
“That means no Saks or Bloomies. You think we can get a puppy?”
“I think that might be negotiable— if and I mean if, we move. I know you’ve always wanted a pet. Heck, I had a dog as a kid. Loved the dickens out of that hound dog.”
“I know, Dad. That’s why I think it’s time I had my own dog. It’d make the move easier if I had something to look forward to. You know?” Dad gazed out into the backyard seeming to consider her plea.
“Let’s see how things progress, dear daughter, and I’ll get back to you on that. Let’s say you’re not looking at the parent who needs the convincing. Right now, I’m more concerned over how your mother’s going to handle the move. She’s going to have the hardest time adjusting. That is, if we move.” Dad walked down the hallway out of sight.
Lydia fell back onto the bed and smiled. Visions of puppies danced in her mind’s eye. At least if they did move, the prospect of getting a dog was on the table and since Dad was okay with it, it meant that Mom would cave over time.
She sprang to her feet. The move would be a big change and she worried about how they’d all adapt. She knew that Mom was not looking forward to giving up Manhattan to go upstate. In fact, Mom had done her best over the years to erase her rural roots and pretend to be from the city. She enjoyed the fast pace of the metropolis and its myriad choices. Mom loved the crowded streets, the theatre life, the shopping, and the excitement that seemed to make the streets pulse. Dad was right that Mom would have the hardest time relocating.
Lydia herself was conflicted over the family uprooting itself from the city. She could see some definite disadvantages, but she also recognized that it wouldn’t be all bad. There was the possibility of the puppy! No doubt she’d miss her friends and the routine of her life. She might have to give up ballet, but that might not be such a horrible thing. What worried her most was the uncertainty of the whole thing. If Dad didn’t get the job, they’d stay in the city. But if he did, and it was very likely that he would, then they would be moving.
When Lydia considered that possibility, she felt unsure. What should she feel? Scared and sad about leaving her friends? Hannah especially. How would Hannah get along without her? Would Hannah be mad at her? Blame her? Would Hannah forget her the week after she left? Maybe. Lydia considered the other option. What if she could actually feel some excitement about the change? Maybe getting out of the city would be a good thing. The school might be a little more relaxed and not so focused on standardized tests and whose parents did what. In a small town, she might be able to go more places on her own and enjoy more freedom. She’d be able to be outside more. Actually, be in nature and see wildlife. That would be cool! Being a teenager away from the city might have its perks. But then again, there was always the problem of whether she’d fit in. Would she be able to make friends?
The only thing she was certain of was that Dad would make it through any transition just fine. His perpetually upbeat attitude assured he’d always land on his feet, finding something good in everything that ever happened.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs broke her train of thought. She realized it was only Dad bringing up some of the luggage.
A slight breeze lifted her hair off her shoulder and Lydia wheeled around. Facing the window, she watched as one of the curtains floated up and then returned to its normal position. An odd occurrence with the window closed, but one she thought could be easily explained. Obviously, the windows were not well sealed, and the wind had raised her hair and blown the curtain, startling her. Old houses were like that, just like old apartments. Back home, weather stripping ran all around her bedroom window because without it, her room would be freezing in the winter.
Lydia approached the window, confident that she would be able to feel the draft responsible for moving the curtain. She floated her hand around the window searching for air flow but found none. The window was old, but it seemed to be in good repair and Lydia did not feel a breeze. Dropping her hand, she tried to remember how the incident had happened. She was tired and maybe jetlagged just enough to think she saw a white curtain move against a white wall. If she was turning around when she saw it, maybe it was just that motion combined with not focusing precisely, that made the curtain look like it moved. Yes, that must be it. Lydia refused to dwell on it.
There were far better things for her to concern herself with. Deep down she had a feeling that Dad was going to get this job. He really wanted it, and he’d be good at it. She sighed. How could she make this move better for Mom? For herself? She turned and left the room, walking to the master bedroom, which faced the street.
A large, four-poster bed with a bright blue comforter hugged the wall to the left. She stepped around her parent’s luggage and into the intense sunshine pouring through the sheer curtain panels in the two windows in front of her. The first sunlight of the day beckoned to her, and Lydia rushed forward to be engulfed in its warmth.
From the window Lydia watched as a large, muscular woman pumped her bicycle and drew near. The woman leaned the bike against the lamppost in front of the house and secured it with a combination lock. Lydia pulled the curtains back for a better look and a few moments later, the doorbell rang.
While the print copy is no longer available, the ebook can be found here:
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Glad you asked!!
A troubled, sixteen-year-old Blake travels to Base Camp on Mt. Everest to spend time with his physician father. When a deadly avalanche occurs, Dad is forced to rethink things and sends Blake off the mountain. Now accompanied by a Sherpa guide, and in possession of a mysterious camera, Blake undertakes a journey which will challenge everything he believes. In the magical Himalayas, he will be forever changed by what he experiences.
Leave a comment below to enter. Blake is traveling in the Himalayas, where would you travel if anything was possible right now? I’ll draw one winner from all those who comment and mail the book to a US address. (Sorry everyone out of country. I’ll try an e-book contest later, so check back.) Contest closes Sept. 14, 2020, noon MT.
For the next two weeks (May 30-Jun 15), INTO THE LAND OF SNOWS, Kindle edition, will be on sale for $2.99 ( orig. price $4.99).
HIGH ALTITUDE MAGIC & MYSTERY:
Sixteen year old Blake travels to Base Camp on Mt. Everest to spend time with his physician father. When a deadly avalanche occurs, Dad is forced to rethink things and sends Blake away. Now accompanied by a Sherpa guide, and in possession of a mysterious camera, Blake undertakes a journey that will challenge everything he believes. In the magical Himalayas, he will be forever changed by what he experiences.
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REIKI DISTANCE HEALING TREATMENTS: I’d like to offer my services to readers of the blog during the Covid crisis. Anyone interested in receiving a Reiki distance treatment can contact me at: firstname.lastname@example.org. I will provide additional information via email. To honor the exchange practice of Reiki, you will be asked to make a $25 donation to your favorite charity.
If you follow my blogs, Facebook, or Twitter feeds, I’m sure it looks like I’m not doing a whole lot. But since being back in country (since late Oct.) things have been very busy. Personal challenges continue— my mother died in April and the house hunt continues.
Timeless Tulips, Dark Diamonds, my new book was released this spring. Since the publisher does not have ebook rights, I’ll be releasing an ebook this fall. It will be an expanded version of the print book with additional material. My goal is to release this in time for Halloween since it’s a ghost story. Stay tuned for more on that.
Additionally, I’m working on a new novel that’s about three quarters complete. No title yet. This has been a fun book to work on. It’s required some research into the history of Colorado’s start and the history of tuberculosis (the White Plague). The book is a visionary tale about girl who grows up in a 19th century, Colorado town known for its dry climate and healing waters. With a father in the mortuary business, Tallulah has always been around TB and death. Tally’s mother died when she was born, and she longs to know more about the woman who should have raised her. Two peculiar town residents, who Tally is warned to give wide berth, sisters Dottie and Lottie (rumor has it) can speak to the dead. Can Tally persuade them to help her? I’m hoping to finish this by the end of the year. Add your title ideas in the comments section. PLEASE!!
Another manuscript I’ve been sitting on for a while, I think I’m going to self-publish soon. The Greening of the Laurel is a visionary, YA book in thriller mode. Ryan’s junior year is turned upside down by a series of bizarre visions and freaky encounters with fire. Eventually, Ryan ends up in the ER. He finally comes face to face with the man who claims to have all the answers. But how can quantum physics and timeless spiritual mysteries be colliding with Ryan at the center of it all? Can he really believe he had a past as a medieval heretic where he hid what has become known as the lost Cathar treasure, a manuscript containing the hidden truth underlying the universe? Can he trust a secret society that claims to need his help if science is to move forward?
Not at first, but as events threaten his family, Ryan returns to southern France to find the document he once allegedly hid. In 1244, he watched two hundred of his countrymen burn as he and two others slipped away in the night carrying a manuscript the world desperately needs. Surrounding Ryan are members of the Green Laurel, back to ensure his safety. Also, back are the dark forces of the Church who want nothing more than to exterminate the remnants of the Cathars and the truth the future requires. Without the manuscript, science cannot advance. A single unified theory will never be found and, all along, Ryan’s very existence remains in peril.
And although I’ve never had any luck with picture books, I’m currently circulating a manuscript with agents starring Mona Lisa. A cute story, but no bites yet!
When fourteen-year-old Lydia travels to Amsterdam with her parents, the last thing she expects is the weird incidents that plague her stay. Curtains flutter mysteriously, and unexplained shadows move through the kitchen unnerving her. But Lydia is more concerned with the potential move to Upstate New York. She dismisses the odd occurrences blaming them on jet lag and the various symptoms of her migraine disease.
When Lydia’s father lands a new job and the family moves to an area first settled by the Dutch, the bizarre happenings continue. Suffering from migraines has never been easy, but now Lydia has to contend with what she may have inadvertently brought home with her.
Duarte’s new book is based on her research in “… paganism, holistic theory, quantum mechanics, and transpersonal psychology, which takes readers deep into the depths of consciousness to the unified field underlying physical existence, where separateness is an illusion.” Definitely my kind of thing and maybe yours too.
She’s only fifteen. She shouldn’t have to play anesthesia games at all, never mind this often, but whatever. She tries not to waste time feeling sorry for herself. She already knows life isn’t fair. Get over it. If you’re going to survive, you have to turn it into a game you have a chance of winning, a game that makes up for lost time. A game that teaches you how to be awake even when you’re not.
This book has already garnered many positive reviews on Amazon which highlight the author’s skill with characterization, pacing, and the way tense moments are flavored with gentle humor. And I totally agree. Rea Nolan Martin has successfully woven a story around four women facing crisis. We are drawn in and caught up in their lives. Most of us will have faced some part of this story either in our own lives or in the lives of a loved one.
What I want to highlight is that this is a masterful work in the emerging genre of visionary fiction. And here the author shows her talent best. She asks us to dig deep and think about healing. How much do we rely on medical professionals? How much power do we have over our own healing? On the healing of others? The writing here is so compelling that I know Rea Nolan Martin has experienced these questions and wrestled with them in her own life. She is drawing from what she “knows”. Anyone who reads about where science is leading us will also feel a resonance to the ideas of the zero point field. Others will gravitate to the language of interconnectedness. Either way, we have to reexamine our place on earth and in the cosmos.
Few authors can take on these themes and make them accessible. This author can. Grab this one!
As 2015 draws to a close, I suspect most of us get reflective. What happened that surprised us, delighted us, disappointed us? Like most years, 2015 was a mixed batch of experiences. We decide which tag to give each one. I have a container filled with little slips of paper that mark what I label good experiences and soon it will be time to review those in the spirit of gratitude. Always there is the tug of those events that never materialized. But linear time demands we move on, but not before a shout out to some of the new friends I welcomed in 2015. Here are five people who have enriched my life and moved us closer to a paradigm shift.
Enrico Magnani: Visionary Artist
Enrico’s paintings have been widely exhibited throughout Europe and in two locations in the US. Currently, he is working on a project called “Cosmic Hug.” Begun in 2013 in Prague, the effort will link art and individuals in a global project demonstrating the interconnectedness of all beings while benefiting the needy.
Rea is the award-winning author of three novels, THE SUBLIME TRANSFORMATION OF VERA WRIGHT (2009), MYSTIC TEA (2014), and THE ANESTHESIA GAME (9/2015). MYSTIC TEA is the recipient of the 2014 IPPY gold medallion and US BEST BOOK award for Visionary Fiction; the 2014 PINNACLE gold medallion in the category of Literary Fiction; and a finalist in the International Book Awards.
Theresa Crater brings ancient temples, lost civilizations and secret societies back to life in her paranormal mysteries. In The Star Family, a Gothic mansion holds a secret spiritual group and a 400-year-old ritual that must be completed to save the day. Her other novels are Under the Stone Paw and Beneath the Hallowed Hill. Currently, she teaches writing and British lit in Denver.
Kim is a professor at Colorado Mountain College. She holds a PhD in physiology and biophysics and a master’s degree in transformative visual art. Her interests include women’s issues, art, and female embodiment.
Theresa and I are both members of the Visionary Fiction Alliance and that’s where I became aware of her work. A short blurb introducing her novel, called The Star Family, convinced me I had to read her book. Who could resist this?
A secret spiritual group. A recurring dream. A 400-year-old ritual that must be completed before it is too late. Jane Frey inherits a Gothic mansion filled with unexpected treasures. A prophecy claims it hides an important artifact – the key to an energy grid laid down by the Founding Fathers themselves. Whoever controls this grid controls the very centers of world power. Except Jane has no idea what they’re looking for.
I couldn’t resist. Immediately, I was drawn into the mystery. Jane Frey was raised in the Moravian tradition, one of the oldest Protestant denominations dating back to the 15th Century. But she knows precious little about their history or esoteric beliefs. I welcomed the opportunity to learn about this group right along with Jane. We also encountered Masons, sacred geometry, Tantric sex, and an exploration of Prague (medieval headquarters to all things alchemical). Yum! Theresa’s novel is original and fast moving. Join me as I delight in talking with her about her novel.
Welcome Theresa! Thanks for spending some time today talking about your book.
Can you talk a little about what inspired you to write this book? I know you have Moravian roots.
I was at the International New Age Trade Show with my partner Stephen Mehler, who was going to be videoed about his new book, and I saw a book called William Blake’s Sexual Path to Spiritual Vision. I love Blake and who wouldn’t pick up a title like that? On the first page it said that Blake’s mother had been a Moravian. On top of that, it said that she was a member during the 1740s when the group was teaching metaphysics and sacred sexuality. They were connected to the Rosicrucians. The Templars had a metal forge in the very alleyway they were located in. All my metaphysical sensor alarms went off. I was stunned. I was raised Moravian and had never heard of such a thing. I could just imagine my grandfather’s reaction! Why was I never told about all this? I had to research it further.
In what ways are you like your main character, Jane Frey? How are you different?
Jane and I were both raised Moravians in Winston-Salem, NC. I used my family tree to fill out names in the book, plus famous Moravians. She’s named after my grandmother and great grandmother. We both studied music, but ended up doing different things. We were both somewhat disillusioned older women. (I was warned not to have an older protagonist, but women in their 50s and 60s buy tons of books. We deserve a face in a book.) Jane and I both have a spiritual bent.
But Jane is good at math and went into finance. I became a meditation teacher, then ran out of money and got an advanced degree in literature. I now teach English at the college level and meditation occasionally. Jane fell in love with her high school sweetheart, a romance cliché I indulged in for the novel. She also moved back home. I still live in Colorado.
There are elements of the story that involve the idea of fate. How do you view fate operating (or not operating) in our lives?
I believe we come into each life with a purpose. We’re here to learn something, do something, and most importantly, embody full consciousness—as much as we can. The universe is alive and interacts with us constantly to give us feedback and help us stay on course. That is fate, messages sent to us from Universal Mind through the world around us and inside us, too—that small, quiet voice of our intuition. But if we get off course or don’t accomplish our mission, the universe doesn’t hold it against us. God, if you will, doesn’t judge. God is besotted with us and all of creation. Since we are not really separated from Universal Mind, there is really no problem. That’s hard to remember when we experience the difficulties of this world, but this is a spiritual training ground, like the Temperance card in Tarot.
I found the Moravian belief system fascinating. Could you briefly outline how their ideas differed from other Protestant groups?
The Moravians were the first Protestant group, one hundred years before Luther. We came from John Hus (1369-1415), a Catholic priest who criticized the corruption in the church of his day. He was against selling indulgences, denying the laity the ability to drink from the chalice during communion, among other things. He preached in Czech, not Latin, in Prague. After his martyrdom, a movement continued his teachings and that grew into the Moravian Church.
Comenius was a bishop of the church, and he went to college with Johann Valentin Andreae, who wrote the Rosicrucian manifestos of 1616. You can see I used Andreae’s name in the book. My master mystic is Valentin. So the Moravian Church was deeply connected to that metaphysical revival. This group tried to get the Holy Roman Emperor out of Prague and replace him with a Rosicrucian leader. This was the Frederick V from what is now Germany who married the King of England’s daughter, Elizabeth. They were going to found an ideal society, but he is called the Winter King because the Thirty Years War began immediately and he was overthrown.
Comenius also advocated for universal education—boys and girls. He didn’t think memorization was a good way to learn and thought play was important. No harsh punishments of children.
These days, Moravians are ordinary Protestants for the most part. In the 1740s, Count Zinzendorf’s teachings had a much more metaphysical bent. What I found most fascinating was his teaching that the body has been redeemed, that there is no sexual shame, and that sex was not only for procreation, but could be used as a meditation almost. These sound so ordinary today, but I think we still suffer from body shame. Zinzendorf was a visionary. I realized that I could have had a thorough metaphysical education without leaving home if the church hadn’t repressed these teachings.
One thing that I really love is our motto: “In essentials unity. In nonessentials liberty. In all things love.” We don’t believe in forcing our beliefs on people, but in dialogue. That’s why the Moravians were the most successful missionaries, not that I really approve of missionaries. We were also pacifists up until the twentieth century.
All the history in The Star Family is based on fact. I have speculated, but from solid information. All of what happens in this novel is within the realm of possibilities. Except perhaps the ending, but even that—who can say?
What was the most fascinating part of the research you must have undertaken to produce the book? Did you travel to any of the locales Jane visits in the book?
The whole thing captured my heart and mind. I discovered that a Moravian minister had written his dissertation about this time period and Zinzendorf’s teachings. He has inspired others to research it and write about it. I was so nervous writing to a minister of our church. My memories of it were the 1950s when things were quite straight-laced. Earlier, my grandfather would pinch my father if he moved around too much in church. To discover we were so cool and ahead of our times really flipped my switch, so to speak.
Then Stephen and I traveled to Prague to view the Moravian roots, and then on to Herrnhut, Germany, where the church was reestablishing on Count Zinzendorf’s estate after the Thirty Years War scattered everyone to the four winds. To go to a place I’d heard about all my life, to walk through their God’s Acre, which is the graveyard, and see names I recognized from my family tree, was marvelous.
The idea of vibration, especially in the form of music, plays a crucial role in Jane’s story. To write those scenes, I imagined you had to have some musical training and a love for music. Is that the case?
The Moravians are quite musical, so I grew up with brass bands and the choir, plus lots of singing in church. Our hymns are unusual with lots of harmonies that I think create a vibratory field that creates peace and raises consciousness. The first time I transcended was listening to Bach. I sang in the children’s and adult choir. Every Easter Sunday, the brass band played at the street corner to wake up the Moravians to come to the Easter Sunrise Service. Brass bands play at many occasions. I was a music major for one semester, but theory was my downfall, so I switched majors. But I did go to college with a person who became a prominent sound healer.
Everything is vibration. Correct and purify the vibratory frequency, and you have harmony and healing. Sound is a good way to meditation. In my meditation training, the mantra was a sound, not a word with meaning. We followed the sound until it disappeared into the Transcendent.
As a writer of visionary fiction, what do you hope readers gain through your work?
A deeper understanding of spirituality and spiritual teachings. I hope that they see their own experience reflected on the page and they’ll go, “Yes, I know that. I’ve felt that. So it’s real.”
What’s you next project?
I’m working on two books right now. One continues the Power Places series and returns to Egypt. I based it on an event that happened a couple of years ago. Some people were digging for artifacts under their house that borders the Giza Plateau and their house collapsed on them. My main character is called to investigate, and of course gets into all kinds of trouble. The first book in the series was also set in Egypt—Under the Stone Paw. Anne Le Clair inherits a crystal that turns out to be one of six keys to the Hall of Records. In the second book, the same aunt has left her a house in Glastonbury that backs up to the Tor—a doorway to faeryland no less. This book is also set in Atlantis—the two story lines intertwine.
I’m also finishing a book I started long ago. This one is women’s fiction exploring three characters who face the challenges of being female and mixed-race in the South from the 1890s to the 1970s. The daughter gets exorcised because she can see spirits.
Thanks for asking me to join you. It’s been a pleasure.