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Weavers of Time

February 18, 2015

There are people in our life that are so preciously understated. Some of them are our loved ones. Others are strangers. Our lives would never be the same after passing by the shooting stars that awaken our hearts.

As an ambitious young dancer, I could not recognize those timeless ones in the streets of New York. They were the shape-shifters, excellent in disguise. Some of them looked like homeless – with an exceptional pleasant aura, others are pretty ordinary, like the faceless passengers on the subway. Something in common were those penetrating glances that could make people uncomfortable if any of us were some pieces of the self-important broken thread… 

We have bought into the programs of certain values and certain conditions as the measurement of success. Success has nothing to do with our self imposed importance but has everything to do with our awareness. Do we see ourselves as a piece of thread in the tapestry that is more colorful than the other pieces of thread? Why do we want to be a piece of special thread when we realize that we are actually the entire tapestry?

Furthermore, how about if we are actually the weavers who can weave all kinds of tapestries from any piece of simple thread – brilliant or dull, broken or whole? If this is acceptable and becoming our living truth, we then free ourselves from this third dimensional matrix and become our multidimensional awareness.


Followed the subway map directly to the Lincoln Center Plaza where the most famous performers made their legends. Oh! How much my young heart was yearning so deeply to be on those stages too? That was the first day when I arrived New York City. Perhaps I was too confident to learn the games of the world but single pointed focus on my ideal of perfection, I could not see the whole tapestry yet.

There were artists selling crafts across the street. I always thought my arts should be adored on the big theaters around the world, not on the street. Well! My feet had their own mind – there I was, standing right in front of a table piled up with beads, handmade crafts and crystals. It looked like a pirate’s treasure chest. The man behind the table looked like a pirate too. Wild hair, wild eyes, wild clothing, must be someone from the 60’s, I keep my observation to myself.

” Black coral! Aey? ” He greeted me with his dictionary eyes beamed blue rays at the pendent on my neck. It was my first day in New York. I was not comfortable talking to a stranger wield like him. Pondered about my feet had their own mind, I shifted my weight just a little. “A dancer, hum? Wish to perform in the Lincoln Center someday??? ” Now, the pirate turned into a tribal looking chief, with sunshine dancing on his carved, wrinkled ancient face. Was he a fortune-teller? Did his eyes just change from blue to brown? What did he do besides selling crafts on the streets? Answering his questions with silent smiles, I had more questions about him than he had with me. Standing next to him was like standing next to a pine tree with its thick bark, broad branches covered with resin and moss and long history of witnessing the coming and going of dwellers. A sense of coming home made me aware of some other levels of communication — as if his eyes were saying to me: “Remember–You shall remember. You are one of us.“ This time he looked like an old priest from the Atlantis.

I remember Atlantis …  I have always been there beyond space/time … 

We were extremely intelligent, beautiful, and free. Different races from different galaxies time-traveled to this beautiful planet in this part of the galaxy. The frequency of earth was much higher then. Some of us come to this beautiful planet to do research, others came for seedling. We did not call it earth; we had a special sound for it, something like Al-ho-ro-la similar to the code of aloha.

We did not live in a confined linear time nor trapped our realities with only five senses of seeing, smelling, hearing, touching, tasting. We had far sights and far memories, we remember our origins and our histories of traveling among the stars. After developing the civilization there, we look more and more like the earth human. The arts, healing, science were one thing in our realm. They were not as separated and compartmentalized as in today’s civilization on earth. This is like in a human body, the legs, arms, head, torso should be working together unless we got ill the same with art, healing and science working together as one. There were times I was a male scientist working with crystals, sounds, genetics and space/time  travel… other times I was a priestess in the healing temple working with also crystals, sounds, cellular memories and inter dimensional traveling. Even in this third dimensional incarnation, I could travel effortlessly to my beautiful Atlantis homeland, dancing in the huge temple that has the pillars made of the crystal selenite… It is not about travel to the past lives but one with that point of consciousness in no-time. The secret of inter dimensional traveling is to go far-in, not far-out.

There were great sorrows in the ending period of the Atlantis. My sister A-le-lu-sha , the high priestess of the Healing Temple, ascended in that time. I did not, because I was still in polarity consciousness, wanting to right the wrong, save the world… I could not see differently with the awareness I had then. My sister A-le-Lu-sha had always been one of the greatest inspirations that I have ever experienced in the Book of my Soul. We both had the bloodline from the Lemurian civilization. In the early time, the Atlantis respected their senior civilization – Lemuria. The priesthood of the Atlantis would send their youth to learn from Lemuria. In the later period when the density of this earth began to increase, these two civilizations became increasingly unfriendly… It was not just about two races but many races, many time lines and many agendas multidimensionally. The rest of the story was about the destruction.

WAR means We Are Right. When we got too self-righteous and forget about oneness, everyone who crosses our paths could be wrong if we choose to be so ” right. ” War become the final equation when both sides are ” right ” and both side wants to right the wrong.

My sister A-le-lu-sha had integrated the finest intelligence and wisdom from both civilizations, seeing the unseen, unconditional loving and free, she had completed this third dimensional earth school and ascended to another frequency. A mother, a teacher, and a friend to me, she has always been with me in the inner plane onto this day. Just by writing about this, the frequency in my room raised  and I am in bliss. As a lost child I was in my perpetual searching… seeing the conflicts, crying for justice, carrying the soul drama of Messiah complex… and often get myself into polarity consciousness. Many times we dance as one, especially when I was on stage performing my dance-theater works. When the New York Times gave me an excellent review of my work – “Daughters and Sons from Atlantis,”  and praised my work being ”imaginative and strangely soothing“ I felt honored, thankful and politely swallowed the word- imaginative. The truth was that A-le-lu-sha was dancing through me … I was not my body. I was the dream of Atlantis.The audience and us were in the grids of the Atlantean consciousness, we simply transported ourselves together into a different space/time. People in New York and people in Atlantis shared visions in their souls. I did not imagine it. I was it. Truth is simple. When we are not simple enough, we do not know how to speak the simple truth. It takes me a long time to unlearn what we had been taught from the social programming and become simple again.

I love Atlantis. There is no death. We are all here again! The streets around me turn into the roads of Atlantis. I see people from Atlantis walking around in different bodies, different names, different clothing. Yet, the same pride, the same soul cry …

— Oh, that is a belt. I carved it myself—
His voice brought me back to the streets of New York. I did not realize that my hands were moving like a child picking shells from the sand. Shells must remember Atlantis. Do they?

-Total magic! I would like to make things as magical as what I saw on this table. Had I just time traveled again?

There were tourists taking pictures around us. Curious and hungry, I remembered that I was also a tourist on my first day in the streets of New York- in this lifetime. I did not know then that I would actually stay in this city for another 18 years. Where was I? From the pirate, to the Indian chief, to Atlantis, then to the memories of the shells… The air in the sunlight held the records of Atlantis. Triggered by his blue glances, I found myself in many places with the same pair of eyes.

Fame? Why does a traveler want fame from the lands she passes through?

“So you remember Atlantis! ” A whale-looking mouth breathing holographic records, he shifted again. You see! There is really no secret in the universe. We are open books. We are speaking each other’s mind. Human beings used to be able to be in telepathic communication with one another and with animal kingdom, plant kingdom and mineral kingdom when we all lived from the heart. The Fall mentioned in the Bible was the fall in the consciousness. All human histories from different cultures had the records of flood and the Fall… it was because people disconnected their head from the heart. Brain is like a computer. Soul reside in our sacred heart. Many people could not enter the sacred heart because too much pain and emotional hurts from souls’ trauma, so it is easier to just get the knowledge from the intellect without diving beneath the surface. Intellect is only one function of processing ideas and datas . the portal to our spirits/ Higher Selves/ God Within is through the sacred heart. The brain can only function in the hologram, that is everything external. When we mistake the external world as the ” real world ” and dismiss the real world that lives in our heart, that was the Fall.

I did not remember what I bought from that pirate’s table. I could only see those blue glances from a pirate to a chief to the priest from another time. Again, I saw the chief dancing next to the bonfire, his daughter dressed in blue feathers, gently invoking the spirits of the land… I saw the deer running in groups, drinking clear water from the sea green… I saw an old writer pulled away by the soldiers of Rome, after singing his politically incorrect poems in the marketplace… I saw the eagle rising, soaring, spiraling in circles, turning into a tiny dot and gone…

He was not there the second day when I visited again.

The third day –no,

The next week –no,

The next month –no,

Never did I see him again in my 18 years journey in the city of New York.


I left New York City three weeks after 9/11, did not plan so but my destiny led me to the Pacific Northwest. 

On Sept, 11, 2001, I was on the Fifth Ave, 55 street on my way to my ballet class, led by Zvi Gotheiner, at City Center. I was just got off the subway feeling wield about why the streets were filled with so many people, each had their face twisted in anguish, sad, fear… looking toward the south end of the island. I turned to see what they saw, my heart was sinking and bleeding… twin towers were flaming. In a very strange sense this felt very familiar as if either I knew this would happen, or this had happened before. A nuclear that sinked some ancient land… long time ago, but felt like yesterday in the memories of my soul.

We were too sad to expressed it through words, so we danced the most beautiful ballet class together. We danced for the dead, for the injured and for the injustice… the energy in the class was so strong that we were all whirling like spirits. I felt that I left my body again one with the flames that consumed the twin towers and one with those souls that passed over from such violent human sacrifice. I knew in my heart it was not what the mass medias said. They were controlled and bought. They were puppets, liars and compartmentalized intellectual slaves… they were our brothers and sisters too. Unlike in the time of Atlantis, this time I shall not right the wrong in polarity consciousness but healing in oneness. Love heals… No matter how hard it was to love such criminals… I choose love without fear.

There were no subways. Someone told me that underneath the streets of New York City, there were gas pipelines. So if those pipelines got lit up, we would all be roasted. No Fear. There was a  great beauty in depth of the New Yorkers. We used to joke among ourselves that we did not waste time to be nice and phony; we did not mind to be mean and ugly because we were New Yorkers. We were brutally frank and we loved excellency. We enjoy so much of accomplishing next week’s workload yesterday. There we were, no bus, no taxi either… only people walking, millions of us walking, in deep contemplation.

That afternoon, me and Stephen, an ex lover and forever soul sibling to me,  met and stopped at the sidewalk bought us each a glass of red wine, toast to those sacrificed brothers and sisters… smelling the flesh and bones burning… no more tears but a new chapter of being.

I lived in Little India around 27 street and Lexington Ave. Many of my neighbors were Muslims. Their faces were gray from such shock and worries about potential riots. I walked to their spice stores, restaurants, Sari shops comfort them to pray to their God for there is only one God / Buddha / All That Is / Great Spirit. If you are a Christian and you hate Muslin, you then have not  yet understood what Jesus taught. We are all God children not puppets of the Cabals. Together we stand; devided they rule. That night all kind of races gathered in many parks… No Riots At All. Sorry, Big-Brother-Puppet-Masters! New Yorkers were a bit too intelligent to be manipulated…yes, we smelled flesh and bones burning; yes, there were altars everywhere and candles burning in every corners; yes, we were sad and angry, but we know how to channel that energy for something constructive. We were tough New Yorkers. There shall come a day, ” You” – you know who I am talking to – you will face what you have done in your souls … you shall face tremendous pain… you might even choose to never deal with power again… Please remember we are one. I, for one, choose to love you and forgive you. Hope you shall learn the same. We all reap what we sow. Truth could be even more brutal and ruthless than everything you have ever done. Truth shall set us free too. “You” have been so proud of being such bad asses, We know how that feels because we all lived through the soul traumas from the Atlatis…

We went to the ground zero for witnessing. The policemen became New Yorkers’ heroes. New Yorkers seldom had heroes. We were our own heroes. There we were, being so tender and warm with one another. The Cabals did not expect that they could not divide us but brought us ever more closer together… Silently, moaning, in our souls and hearts we recognized our brothers and sisters speechlessly, and we reflect our strength to one another…

We were Daughters and Sons From The Atlantis.

There were still people got dug out who were still alive. One evening I did a healing meditation in my room, sending them strength. Suddenly I felt as if the monthly blood rushing out of me and the entire floor was flooded with my blood. My inner guidance told me to continue sending healing energy to the dead, the family of the dead and to the ones who were buried but still alive… I sat there did the inner work. When I opened my eyes, there was no blood on the floor, not even from me. I realized that I was sitting on their blood. So I made a deep promise then, from my soul to theirs. I told them that a big part of me died with them– which was so true. I only performed in public twice since then. those two occasions were not even theater performances but shamanic ceremony. I gave them permission to send me their visions and dreams in service of humanity. I shall help them to complete to the best ability I could offer. In less than three weeks, I got a phone call for coming to a retreat in the Pacific Northwest. I did not know then I would be leaving New York forever, but some of my classmates in my ballet class knew. Dancers are like yogis, or yoginis, we were so fine tuned with our different bodies, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.., being psychic is just a by-product. When we hugged one another goodbye, they were sobbing, I too had tears streaming… I joked with them – hey, only two weeks, don’t miss me too much.

… In different towns, different times, I see that pirate/ chief / Atlantis priest in my own crafts of magic hats, magic shawls, Magic wands… crystals creations,  and my own tables in the art-fairs, festivals and showrooms… I see him in my mind when I get my hands dirty and tough, making things magical for my table of wonder and for the enchantment of a different kind of audience. I see him in the glances from strangers… and I see the young me in those who visited my table. They were open books to me just like I was to him… I talked to some of them in silence – Remember! You are one of us … and I saw their eyes beaming smiles to me in silence… Oh! You precious souls who have been kings and queens, saints and villains… You have been the kindest healers and the most ruthless warriors… You have been Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader… You heroes, patriot, traitors, warlords, conquerors and conquered, farmers and nobles… sons, husbands, fathers, grandfathers and nameless ones… many wounds from the same war cry… How many battle fields have you been through? Do you remember the star wars? You delicate flowers, proper women and dragon ladies, holy virgins and harlots, witches, queens and empresses…daughters, wives, mothers, grandmothers… the honored and the condemned… many faces from the same flame …How much tears and blood had you shed into the soil of Mother Earth?  

I – See – You.

No matter how brilliant or how great you were in your other lifetimes, you are much wiser now than ever before in your humble searching trying to remember something greater than your names, bodies and personal dramas… This so called physical reality is a hologram, a nice playground, but it is time to wake up and to complete a very long march, repeated, and boring, forgetful almost endless cycles. The long march is over and the cycles is near the end. Wake Up and Remember Who & What You Are.

I am grateful for everything life has brought me. Life is a much bigger stage. I did not miss my previous career, although I missed my friends, associates, audience from the depth of my soul. We had shared most profound time together heart to heart, soul to soul. And I carry their beauty and strength with me wherever I go.

I am comfortable with the threads, broken or whole. I know that I have never been alone. For we all weave our destinies together like shooting stars. Sometimes traceless and faceless, other times blazing bright… Noble ones are often unseen, like the threads… invisible, whirling rays… you and I are one.

We are the ones we have been waiting for. 

We do not belong to time.. We are weavers of time …

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