The Scarf… There’s the Culprit.

December 12, 2021December 25, 2022 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Without doubt, though the most reviled black woman on the planet, I knew that though cited as the instigator in the tabloid media, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex could not have been the cause of the obvious rift between Diana, Princess of Wales’ sons: HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex. When someone is guilty of having wronged, denigrated or slandered another, that guilty party is always acutely uncomfortable in the presence of the subject of their animus. This past Christmas church service at Sandringham, HRH Prince William unwittingly unmasked himself as the guilty party. I never for a moment believed that Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge was the instigator.

In September 2017 when HRH Prince George of Cambridge was widely photographed attending his first day of school in Battersea, one thing stood out in the reporting at the time: his father’s very close friend and cousin, Lord Frederick Windsor’s daughter Maud by actor wife, Sophie Winkleman also attends the same school. This is the same cousin whose cocaine addiction had caused HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales to put an end to the close relations his sons enjoyed with their cousin; however, HRH Prince William remained close to this cousin.

One of the things that struck me is the interviews given after their engagement was announced in late November 2017.

Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall was her usual adroit, eloquent self, and her husband,

HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales was the second most upbeat.

At the time, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge was less upbeat, did not mention Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex; rather, he essentially characterised his brother as a thief.

Similarly, Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge spoke of their happiness but never mentioned Ms. Markle and this came a day later after her husband; indeed, it was as though, Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge had been tasked with doing damage control after William’s snub of Meghan by nmentioning her name.

A month after the engagement announcement, though not yet a royal bride, Meghan Markle was invited to attend HM The Queen’s traditional Christmas lunch with her especially enamoured fiancé, HRH Prince Henry of Wales. So as not to be mistaken, the continental put-on wore a starkly white coat such that her blackamoor brooch would not be properly photographed on a dark coat. At the time, there was justifiable furore in the press and the narcissistic twit was made to issue a rather disingenuous-sounding mea culpa. Clearly, she could never in a million years have acted on her own.

Later that month, Christmas Day, 2017, again Meghan not being from Britain was invited – though not yet a royal spouse – to HM The Queen’s Christmas Church Service at Sandringham. On looking at the video, it was clear that there was tensions between the two senior royal couples. By that point, there was widespread open animus towards Ms. Markle and though it was never directly addressed and always vehemently denied, her race was the source of the vitriol. Whilst entering the church, there was smugness from HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge towards Ms. Markle. As they left the church, there was no denying HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales’ open affection for Ms. Markle and in the above photograph, he is beaming directly at Ms. Markle, making her feel welcome whilst the keenly onlooking HRH Prince William in the rear was tense-looking.

A couple of months later, when appearing as the ‘Fab Four’ charter members of the Royal Foundation, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge spent most of his time crouched forward; his posture was predatory and he was keenly eagle-eyed as he monitored Ms. Markle’s performance. As ever, HRH Prince Henry of Wales looked nervous, Ms. Markle was poised though her chief feature tended at times to get the better of her – more on that later. I shall do a thorough overview of these major royals’ Michael Overleaves, which were channelled by two authentic Michael channellers and by none of the ever burgeoning scores of two-bit charlatans.

Finally, the big day arrived for Diana’s younger son; and what a wedding it would prove. There sat HRH Prince William displaying those urges for which a life at public school leaves one possessed of certain proclivities. In the above photograph, William is eyeing Ben Mulroney – well, because he can – at the time neither of his inner circle chums (Thomas & Charlie van Straubenzee) were present in the quire. At least on two other occasions, William openly coveted Mr. Mulroney during his brother’s nuptials.

On her arrival to the altar to join her husband, Meghan looking more confident and radiant than most brides was being suspiciously eyed by her brother-in-law in his role of disproving, to say nothing of delusional, final arbiter.

As the newlywed TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex departed St. George’s Chapel in the Ascot Landau, all the members of the Cambridge family at the top of the west steps waved off the couple save, of course, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge. He kept holding George’s hand and the order of service in the other.

Windsor, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge 21/6/1982 London, England

Michael: This fragment is sixth-level mature scholar – third life thereat. William is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance. A pragmatist, he is in the intellectual part of moving centre.

Body type is Lunar/Mars/Saturn.

William’s primary chief feature is stubbornness – death of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, was the triggering event and the secondary arrogance.

The fragment William is third-cast in sixth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence seven. William’s entity is four, cadre one, greater cadre 6, pod 208.

William’s essence twin is a scholar and he has a warrior task companion to whom he is married, Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge.

William’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and security.

There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 3 with Merlin.

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Windsor, Catherine HRH Duchess of Cambridge 9/1/1982

Michael: This fragment is a fifth-level mature warrior – third life thereat. Catherine is in the perseveration mode with a goal of growth. A pragmatist, Catherine is in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Catherine’s body type is Saturn/Mercury/Venus.

Catherine’s primary chief feature is stubbornness and the secondary, arrogance.

The fragment Catherine is fourth-cast in the sixth cadence. Catherine is a member of greater cadence one. Catherine’s entity is four, cadre one, greater cadre 6 pod 208.

Catherine’s essence twin is a warrior and the task companion a scholar, her husband, HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge.

Catherine’s three primary needs are: expansion, power and expression.

There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 8 with Merlin. 

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Windsor, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex 15/9/1984 London, England

Michael: This feisty fragment is a fifth-level mature warrior -– fourth life thereat – to his sixth-level mature brother, William. Henry is in the power mode with a goal of growth. A sceptic, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Body type is Mars/Saturn.

Henry’s primary chief feature is arrogance and the secondary stubbornness.

The fragment Henry is first-cast in second cadence; he is a fragment of greater cadence three. Henry’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 – Henry is an entity mate of his paternal grandmother, HM Queen Elizabeth II.

Henry’s essence twin is a warrior and he has a scholar task companion.

Henry’s primary needs are: freedom, adventure and exchange.

There are 9 past-life associations with Arvin and 5 with Merlin.

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Windsor, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex 4/8/1981

Michael: This fragment is a mid-cycle mature artisan in the tradition of the deceased mother fragment who was Diana, Princess of Wales — third life thereat. Meghan is in the observation mode with a goal of acceptance. An idealist, Meghan is in the moving part of emotional centre.

Meghan’s body type is Venus/Solar.

Meghan’s primary chief feature is self-deprecation and the secondary of mild impatience.

The fragment Meghan is fourth-cast in the fifth cadence. Meghan is a member of greater cadence four. Meghan is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418 — she is an entity mate of both her spouse, HRH Prince Henry of Wales with whom she shares 20 past lives and also an obvious entity mate of Her Majesty, The Queen.

Meghan’s essence twin is an artisan and the task companion a warrior.

Meghan’s three primary needs are: expression, acceptance and expansion.

There are 4 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin.

Incidentally, this artisan has been a member of the British royal family twice before.

Firstly, as Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and Derby, she was the cousin of King Henry VI and mother of King Henry VII. As such she was the matriarch of the House of Tudor. Her grandson was Henry VIII and her great-granddaughter, Elizabeth I.

This artisan in that lifetime was involved in the sacraments of the church being included in the newly established college system. She founded Christ College, Cambridge and was instrumental with the founding of St. John’s College as well.

Secondly, she was HRH Prince Edward, Duke of York and Albany and younger brother to George III, whose father the Prince of Wales, HRH Prince Frederick died before ascending the throne after George II. In that lifetime, the artisan (now Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex) was interested in military structure. He, of course, died young of a then unknown illness but which had to do with dysentery.

Incidentally, in the current incarnation, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex has suffered from gastroenteritis, which is related to the last-life health issues – this is the immediate past life and not that in 18^th century when the artisan died aged 28.

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Windsor, HM Queen Elizabeth II 21/4/1926 London, England

Michael: This fragment is third-level mature slave –- second life thereat. Elizabeth is in the perseveration mode with a goal of dominance. A realist, she is in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Body type is Venus/Lunar.

Elizabeth’s primary chief feature is stubbornness and the secondary self-deprecation.

The fragment Elizabeth is fourth-cast in fifth cadence; she is a fragment of greater cadence six. Elizabeth’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 418.

Elizabeth’s essence twin is a slave and the task companion is a priest.

Elizabeth’s three primary needs are: security, adventure and exchange.

There are 6 past-life associations with Arvin and 4 with Merlin.

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Mountbatten, Prince Philip HRH Duke of Edinburgh 10/6/1921 Greece

Michael: This fragment is fourth-level mature warrior – second life thereat. Philip is in the observation mode with a goal of preferred dominance. A sceptic, he is in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Body type is Saturn/Mars.

Philip’s primary chief feature is stubbornness – due to early death of a family member and the secondary subdued impatience.

The fragment Philip is seventh-cast in first cadence; he is a member of greater cadence six. Philip’s entity is one, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 408.

Philip’s essence twin is a warrior and he has a scholar task companion who is known to him.

Philip’s primary needs are: exchange, acceptance and power.

There are 14 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin.

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Frances, Diana, Princess of Wales July 1/1961<O>August 31/1997.

Michael: The fragment who was Diana Frances is a second-level mature artisan and was in the passion mode with a goal of acceptance, a pragmatist in the moving part of emotional centre.

She had a Lunar/Mercury body type.

Diana’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a secondary, not of self-destruction but of self-deprecation.

Diana Frances was first-cast in her cadence and her cadence is fifth in the greater cadence. She is a member of entity one, cadre six, greater cadre 48, pod/node 380.

This fragment’s essence twin is a discarnate artisan and her task companion is a discarnate sage, both of whom are staying near her, waiting for her to become oriented to her situation.

Here, we had an artisan with drama in her casting but also with a very deep need to serve both the common and the higher good, which she did with grace, charm and a good deal of conviction.

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Windsor, HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales 14/11/48 London

Charles Windsor is a seventh-level mature second-cast warrior. Charles Windsor is in observation mode, with a goal of acceptance, and attitude of pragmatist, moving part of intellectual centre.

Charles’s body type is Mercury-Saturn.

Charles’ primary chief feature is stubbornness, secondary is self-deprecation.

He has an incarnate warrior essence twin with no plans to meet and a discarnate priest task companion, who exerts considerable influence on him.

His casting is virtually the same as Robert Bateman’s: entity two, cadre four, greater cadre 16, pod/node 404 but he is a second-cast in a fourth cadence, entity four, cadre four, greater cadre 16, pod/node 404.

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Windsor, Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall 17/7/1947 London, England

Michael: Yes, this scholar is at the mid-level of the mature soul cycle — third life thereat. Camilla is in caution mode with a goal of growth. A pragmatist, Camilla is in the moving part of intellectual centre.

Body type is Lunar/Venus.

Camilla‘s primary chief feature is impatience and the secondary arrogance.

The fragment Camilla is third-cast in sixth cadence; Camilla is a fragment of greater cadence seven. Camilla‘s entity is five, cadre six, greater cadre 7, pod 129.

Camilla’s essence twin is a scholar and the task companion is a warrior.

Camilla’s primary needs are: exchange, freedom and power.

There are 10 past-life associations with Arvin and 6 with Merlin.

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Now for the esoteric Michaelese breakdown of what all this means. All told, there are 9 major players chosen here; of them warrior souls predominate with four such persons: Catherine, Henry, Philip and Charles. Two scholars: William and Camilla. Similarly, there are two artisans, Diana and Meghan. Lastly, there is but one slave, HM The Queen, who happens to have the strongest overleaves of them all. As HRH Prince William is the subject of this blog, I shall explore his overleaves lastly.

First and foremost, there are only two ways to approach all of life, either from a place of fear or a place of love. That having been said, there are both positive and negative poles of all overleaves. Similarly, just because an individual is an older soul does not mean that they are a more evolved human being and is all good. Of all these 9 royals, HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales, is the oldest souled member with Diana, Princess of Wales having been the youngest soul among them. Bear in mind, too, that some of these persons are if not entity or cadre mates, at the very least are pod mates. I am going to go through these nine souls in order of soul age and though Charles is the oldest of the group, I will discuss William’s last even though he is the second oldest soul.

Diana: Second-level mature artisan; she lived the charmed life, great overleaves. She had the great goal of acceptance, which incidentally so too do William, Charles and Meghan. There was considerable Maya involved and she created a ton of drama out of sheer boredom and also as a way of fighting back when realising that she was in a loveless marriage and nothing but a pawn. No idea, if she is yet reincarnated.

HM The Queen: A third-level mature slave soul, she is on her second life at that level and is in dominance. This is as close to perfect and positively manifested the overleaves of anyone within that family or elsewhere. These are great overleaves, which are positively manifested.

Camilla: She is a mid-cycle mature scholar soul and a pragmatist in growth. This woman is a solid and as gracious a scholar as you can find. No surprise that she focusses on literary charities and organisations and hosts the annual Man Booker Prize awards. She is a scholar’s scholar and does not do drama. Camilla is another BRF (British Royal Family) member who gets it right and is manifesting in the positive pole of her overleaves like HM The Queen.

Meghan: Like Camilla, the Duchess of Sussex is also mid-cycle mature; however, like Diana, Princess of Wales she is an artisan. As is obvious from her overleaves, she chose to reincarnate to do something. Where she is is precisely where she is supposed to be. One does not end up with body-type of Venus-Solar and do nothing and does not become a major player on the global stage. Incidentally, usually only one life is passed at mid-cycle mature; it is a bridge lifetime between third mature and fourth mature and it is the only soul age where this occurs – there are exceptions to everything as this is Meghan’s soul’s third life as mid-cycle mature. At the end of fourth mature, more of the brain is used going forward and there is greater complexity to the persona. Meghan, having been Margaret Beaufort in a past life when she was the most pivotal Lancastrian woman during the War of the Roses, matriarch of the Tudor Dynasty, cousin of King Henry VI, mother of King Henry VII, beloved grandmother and mentor of King Henry VIII and great-grandmother to HM Queen Elizabeth I. Furthermore, Meghan is an entity mate of both HM The Queen and her husband HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex. They form a troika that is unshakeable. She is an idealist in acceptance; she will always be emotionally and empathetically open and mature. Sadly, though, the fact that this soul chose to be black in this lifetime has meant that she has become the most reviled black woman on the planet for having married into the BRF and its most loved prince. Incidentally, her husband, HRH Prince Henry was black in his immediate past life. Meghan’s primary chief feature is that of self-deprecation which is never attractive and this leaves her copping the shy smile routine and in particular placing her hand over her mouth. Your chief feature is a cactus never to be cradled… that said, this soul who as Margaret was first wedded before the age of two and had four husbands will be striking it out of the park in this lifetime again.

Philip: Fourth mature warrior in dominance, this is an equally solid soul as is his wife, HM The Queen. A warrior’s warrior to the core.

Henry: A fifth-level mature warrior; this man is the most interesting and underrated royal. First of all, at fifth-level mature, he is more complex than any of the other royals thus far; he is also a sceptic and the only other of the nine being the rather shrewd Prince Philip. This means that he is all 9 parts intellect, sees straight through everything and is able to think outside the box. Fifth-level is also synonymous with the goal of acceptance; therefore, this man will always have great appeal within a group dynamic. He is also thoroughly unpretentious and in growth. As a warrior, he inputs on one channel as do scholars and kings. Similarly, as a warrior, Henry will never forgive disloyalty of any kind; a betrayal of any kind is unforgivable.

Catherine: Like Henry, Catherine is not only also a warrior but she is also fifth-level mature. These two are rather simpatico and there is no way that they would never get along; there would be nothing but mutual respect and understanding. Fifth-level mature is also a time of incredible creativity, especially among warrior souls. Catherine also happens to be not just an entity mate of her husband’s but they are also task companions, which is as close a relationship at the level of soul that you can have as is possible. Task companions are like oxen sharing the same yoke; they get things done and Catherine also has a goal of growth like her brother-in-law, Henry but she is in perseveration mode. Catherine is all steel and will endure much and scale any mountain to get the job done. Admirable lady.

Charles: the fourth of the warriors, he is also the oldest soul of the senior royals. Dream encounters with this man are truly evolved. Naturally, as a seventh-level mature warrior issues of stewardship of the planet would be paramount among his concerns. He is also a warrior in acceptance and lives a life that is truly a positive expression of his overleaves. Kind and inclusive, he is understanding and truly accepting. Like every warrior there ever was, he does not forget or forgive disloyalty.

William: He is the second scholar soul and also the second oldest soul of the group. Sixth-level mature, William is at that all unforgiving sixth-level where those lives are all about paying back karma and having to work in the larger arenas of life and providing stewardship. William, born on the summer solstice, was also born with a stellium in his astrological chart which among other things means that he is prone to being very narrow in his focus; more importantly, it indicates someone who cannot see the forest for the trees when expressed negatively.

Though William has a goal of acceptance, he also has a chief feature – no chief feature is ever positive – of stubbornness, which means that he is rarely regardless of his perfected persona ever either at ease or accepting of anyone. Moreover, when a scholar is not in the positive pole of its role – as Camilla is – then that scholar will be an obstinate (stubbornness) negative and prejudicial (acceptance’s polar opposite rejection goal).

This is why it is almost 100% likely that William not only knew of HRH Princess Michael of Kent’s intention of wearing the blackamoor brooch to the 2017 Christmas Lunch at Buckingham Palace but he likely was the one to have sanctioned it. William is very close with Frederick who with his Jewish actor wife spend lots of time in Los Angeles where there is inordinate racial animus towards blacks.

Wearing the blackamoor brooch to HM The Queen’s Christmas Lunch was tantamount to wearing a swastika to said lunch the first year that Sophie Winkleman attended, knowing fully well that Lord Frederick Windsor’s wife is Jewish. The idea that somehow Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex is behind a rift between both princely brothers or is contentious with Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge – who as a warrior is more likely to be openly hostile towards Meghan than the other way around – couldn’t be further from the truth.

I think that it is safe to say that the Middletons have become rather high and mighty with themselves as evidenced when James Middleton was seen being socially hostile towards ITV’s royal correspondent, Tom Bradby outside St. George’s Chapel at the royal wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex.

Here are further examples of HRH Prince William being rejecting, obstinate and plain rude. William and not Meghan refused to have Sarah, Duchess of York attend his wedding. William and not Meghan sat in the Chapel at St. George’s Chapel and openly ridiculed Reverend Curry to his father, HRH Prince Charles. It was William and not Meghan who decided after the birth of HRH Prince George of Cambridge that the infant’s paternal grandparent would not be afforded access to his first grandchild. William rather than Meghan told Dave Clark that he was not desirable as a husband for his cousin, HRH Princess Beatrice, thereby putting an end to a relationship that was no business of his.

One of the most disarming things to know about HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge is that he is basically stupid and lacks awareness. This is how he always comes off in very lucid dream encounters. Furthermore, like all scholars in the negative pole of their soul/role, he is given to being discriminatory and readily judgmental. As a scholar with a chief feature of stubbornness, William is not given to being open to change and has an inordinately corrupted, almost delusional, sense of self. There is high conceit when dealing with this man. Indeed, he has taken his brother Henry, with an attitude of sceptic, none too seriously and definitely not as an equal; however, HRH Prince Henry does not – for being a sceptic – take this man too seriously nor does he take personally his hyper-inflated sense of self.

During their engagement interview, Catherine sat on the edge of the sofa; only once did they touch and it was her initiating. William during the interview self-congratulatorily referred to his great sense of humour – blind conceit. Catherine’s hair almost covers her eyes so that she can remain tunnelled in focus and not become overwhelm by William’s intimidating nature. Catherine’s mouth is pursed and turned down at the corners, betraying her discomfiture for being in William’s presence; this suggests an unpredictable nature and a violent temper. Frankly, Catherine looks as though she fully expects to be slapped at any moment and with some regularity.

Catherine as she appeared on entering Westminster Abbey and being greeted by the Dean of Westminster. Her smile is warm, relaxed and she radiates her inner beauty; indeed, it is uneclipsed.

Catherine, now in the presence of William becomes clenched, clipped and her radiance lacks its lustre. All this because of the unpredictable nature of the man she is about to marry. This very man is also her task companion; however, his perfectly good overleaves have become corrupted and are not positively expressed in the least.

William the none-too-bright finally figures out how to properly fasten his gloves.

William enters the carriage and sits with his back to the horses drawing the carriage; he had even looked back over his shoulder to the horses, yet still sat down in the improper position in the carriage.

William in this photograph has now changed seats after having been instructed to do so by the footman, wearing the white-plumed hat; the footman did so under his breath.

In this shot, after having told William to properly sit, facing the front and not the back of the carriage, the footman could be seen looking at Pippa Middleton and she looks at him with a knowing and dismissive look and smile. This interchange between both the footman and Pippa indicates that it is common knowledge by those in the know that William basically is stupid.

A keenly observant HRH Prince Henry on entering Westminster Abbey with his older brother on the day of William’s wedding. This is the look of someone with an attitude of sceptic. He knows that he has to hang back and take everything with a grain of salt as basically, his brother William is dense and unaware.

While being hosted by the dean of Westminster, Henry ventures a comment and like a scholar in stubbornness and who has been groomed to always be deferred to, William in essence tells his brother to shut up with a dismissive remark. At all times, like a person in stubbornness, William’s body language is rigid and controlling with his hands ever clasped, the same few remarks and the same loud vacuous laughter and of course that ever present smile that is evocative of his mother Diana, Princess of Wales.

Scholars in the negative pole of their role/soul can be the biggest bores; ever, they are a font of useless information and often unsolicited. Here the newlyweds ride up the Mall to Buckingham Place; at least three times on the ride from Westminster Abbey William became impatient with Catherine and they rowed. Here, he is shouting at her and telling her to be observant; she like the warrior she is, anywhere and anytime, she will sound off and protest without so much as thinking twice. Love her!

Do not be fooled by Catherine’s smile; he is grilling her and she is fighting back. This, of course, is a healthy part of their relationship as long-term lovers and also for that matter for being task companions.

After the harsh words, naturally, William was a sulky petulant bore. Warrior to the core, Catherine leans in and nudges him with her left shoulder and gets him to get out of his funk. Catherine is one of the strongest royal women going.

Once on the balcony, William becomes a right bore with the endless drivelfest of observations. On more than one occasion, one captured above, Catherine simply dismisses the ennui that is William by pointing instead towards the Canada Gates whilst he was directing her to look down the mall towards the approaching planes taking part in the flypast. And at all times, Catherine maintains equilibrium with that Cheshire cat grin.

William simply assumes because he is destined to be king and is never challenged, he could do as he pleases and attack his brother’s lover without there being the slightest repercussions.

Newly engaged, Henry and Meghan openly displaying their love for each other and both possessed of emotional intelligence that speaks to their reincarnational history, their being entity mates and the fact that as a yogi who has mastered the kamsutra, Henry is a happy camper. Xerxes, a seventh-level mature warrior friend sums up the warrior’s motto thusly: feed me, fuck me but do not annoy me.

Here, Henry on taking his vows and slipping the ring on Meghan’s finger with the most sexually suggestive intimacy, then winks at her. This is a couple completely and thoroughly besotted, in love and passionately consumed with each other.

Now there is a happy warrior; Henry deplanes when on first tour of the Commonwealth with his serenely pregnant wife, whilst sporting a chubby.

William, who is inordinately so a control freak, is threatened by his brother’s wife who is not a controlled, plus one and subservient wife. Meghan has style and is not a blank foil to allow the blood royal spouse and only the blood royal spouse to shine at all times. I don’t, though, agree with Meghan’s inability to strictly follow royal protocol and walk behind her blood royal spouse.

Henry made sure to have a wife who would be for him what his father never was for his mother; a lover, companion and equal team member. Meghan is forthright, articulate. Like every artisan soul, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex inputs on five channels (the most of all the seven soul types) which means she can evoke mood and inject that certain “je ne sais quoi” into what she wears. Artisans are said to be atmospheric; just slipping into an item of clothing and it is as though we shift personae and become as well as project the right mood into the environment. Artisans are atmospheric; we set the mood by just being.

Most of all, this appearance by Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex at the 2018 British Fashion Awards is why William fears her. Hatred is nothing but fear and to be obstinate and conspire with the Kents for Frederick Windsor’s mother to wear the blackamoor brooch only points to how much William fears his brother’s wife; to fear someone is to readily reveal how miserably you have no power over that someone. Onto that stage, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex walked and had the room in the palm of her hand. William knows that Catherine his wife could never have that command of an audience; what’s more, Catherine is a whimpering mousy little thing as compared to eloquent, confident trained thespian, Meghan.

In the 21st century, Brand Windsor needs an ambassador who is media savvy and can walk out onto a stage and deliver like only Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex does. That awards ceremony at Royal Albert Hall would have been a room with more than 60 per cent artisan souls whereas artisans make up 22 percent of the population of souls cosmically. In Meghan, the fashion worlds of couture, design and jewellery have one of their own – she is akin to a patron saint. This was the same effect that Diana, Princess of Wales also had for being an artisan soul.

In Meghan, William is having to endure some self-karmic issues; you own no one and cannot push around anyone as you please. Thus far, he has irreparably damaged his relations with two strong warriors – his father and brother. Long before Meghan arrived he had sabotaged his relationship with Charles for not approving of Camilla, blaming his father for his mother’s death and denying his father access to his first grandchild. With regards Henry, he has done Meghan a big favour for with his open animus and hideous bigotry vis-à-vis the blackamoor incident, William has lost Henry’s trust and it will only forge the love and loyalty between him and Meghan.

Thus far, William and his family have twice been to Canada on royal tours; they have also been to the U.S., Singapore, Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific Commonwealth nations and India; however, William and his family have yet to set foot in a predominantly black Commonwealth nation. There are no coincidences. Persons in stubbornness are the most difficult people to deal with as they are pigheaded in the extreme and relish being difficult. As he clearly has no interest in being on tour in a predominantly black Commonwealth nation, this is why TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex were appointed as Commonwealth Youth Ambassadors. Far be it for William to become Sovereign where more than half the countries in the Commonwealth are peopled by blacks. As ever, tabloid media will blame Meghan the unsuitable black woman for the rift; truly, one need look no further than William, who is not in the positive pole of acceptance; rather he is in the negative pole of its opposite, rejection, which makes for the scarf incident, the blackamoor incident and all the other deplorable things he’s gotten up to: Sarah not at his wedding, Charles having little to no access to newborn George, froideur towards Camilla and now Meghan. Too bad for his scheming, though, because within a year of marriage, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex will be mother to a royal child which further solidifies her staying power.

As ever, don’t let fear and chief feature get the better of you as so clearly it has HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge. Just straighten up and fly right… especially when lucidly awakened in the dreamtime. For your ongoing support, I am inordinately grateful. Happy New Year and here’s to the very best in 2019.

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The Remains of Armistice Day.

November 28, 2018November 13, 2022 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Strangely, though the major part of Armistice Day celebrations were long concluded, there were still more persons moving westward towards the Cenotaph than easterly towards Trafalgar Square. My companion, a spectacled, freckled guy in his early 30s, was keen on having me come back to his flat in South Bank – We were headed towards Charing Cross Station to take the Bakerloo Line towards his place.

Stalling for time, as I really was not feeling him, I firmly suggested that we go tour Banqueting House as I had never been, which was the truth. Of course, it did not help that the only thing at Banqueting House was the great ceiling art and the throne; the rest of it was just as empty as clearly, James, my “Mate” was dense. Long years ago, a channeller of dubious skills stated rather imperiously that I would meet someone named James, who would prove rather loyal and a long-term affair.

Somehow, this nebulous bit of arcana seemed to be the only sane reason why I was suffering this oaf overlong. His constant bitching about “Nutmeg,” as he referred to the Duchess of Sussex, was not winning him any favours in my books. I had hoped to have found much more archival fare associated with the spot where HM King Charles I was executed. Alas, there was nothing save a throne and an impressive ceiling.

With the toilets at Banqueting House fully occupied and alarmingly foul-smelling, back outside we dashed in hopes of finding a toilet. A pub, whose name I did not even catch a few door towards Trafalgar Square, proved the right spot. He ordered a couple of lagers – I never drink beer, and off I went to the toilet to relieve myself. I waited overlong, waiting for him to possibly come in then use the stalls so that I could make a mad dash for it. No such luck. However, on rejoining him, he lustily talked about what he wanted me to do to him. Never one to miss an opportunity, I suggested he go unclog his plumbing so that I could give it to him good, long and hard when we got back his place.

Naively quick to take the bait, out I dashed into the larger-than-usual crowds when he eagerly bolted to the toilet; once outside, I then caught the tail end of the latest regiment to go moving from the roundabout as they made their way from the Strand and onto Whitehall. With that, I swiftly made it across Pall Mall, crossed Canada House and made my way to the new entrances to the National Gallery – this James clearly was not the one.

Taking the time to avail myself of the museum’s free wi-fi, I sipped on a boost of Pret A Manger’s little magic, yellow potion, Hot Shot. I then decided against the Bellini show – Italian art is way too religious for my liking and it strangely enough has never once addressed the fact that the Church of Rome has, in its role as civiliser, proven the most disruptive terror group this planet has thus far known. For me, there is something alarmingly dangerous about a culture, which would completely and utterly eclipse this rather crucial aspect that has decided their place in the world – but enough about that for now.

Having dodged James, I decided to do the Courtauld exhibition as it would beat having to attend the museum on this trip. Whilst standing in one of two long queues, along came Ms. Thang, who simply looked at us and grandly walked up to the next sales rep as though she had exited St. George’s Chapel on Ginger’s arm on the gloriously sunny early afternoon of May 19, 2018.

As I was next in line, I just as imperiously declared to her and the rep, “Take you, the weave and that blasted fake channel handbag to the back of the line; there are not two lines of invisible persons waiting to buy tickets.” Before she could turn nasty with me, the lovely Dravidian lady informed her that I was next in line and, more importantly, she intended to serve me next. Fake boobs that looked like flotation devices and feet that were too big to fit any glass slippers and, of course, there was a bulky turtleneck to hide the Adam’s apple.

Though “she” was prepared to do drama, I came to do me and look at art and that I did. I was really wowed by some of these works, which I previously had not seen.

Naturally, this Degas masterpiece only warmed my soul. Straight away, I was left humming the music from the grand pas de deux in Act II of La Bayadère, which I could not wait to see at week’s end.

Shades of Canada’s Group of Seven, to be sure. I like the fact that the artist did not include the entire tree in the portrait.

Ah yes, and who doesn’t love the sublime soulfulness of a Gauguin tableau.

Trees, trees and even more trees. What’s not to love!

After having been greatly inspired by the Courtauld Impressionist show – well worth the price – I bailed outside; there were too many parents using the free admission to the museum as a place to come in out of the elements and babysit their way too young children. Once outside, I hailed a cab, though, not the above – wrong day and time of day. This cab proved one of the most memorable journeys. As The Mall was closed, we took the roundabout from in front of Trafalgar Square and headed along Pall Mall. I wanted just then to get to The Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace but did not want to use the underground; it was way too glorious a day out.

Finally, I laid down the law to the driver, who was a burly soul and looked like the quintessential slave soul. Soon enough, we got into a conversation when we began chatting about Canada, which I shared that I would give anything to flee in hopes of living in London. Soon, the topic turned to sex and whatever one would have to do to get by. Ha! Said he, he would give up this gig of 22 years and counting by marrying a fat, ugly rich broad to which, without so much as missing beat, I chimed in, “Don’t stop there, if you can find rich, fat, ugly and toothless, now you’ve got it made. To paraphrase Frank Sinatra from The Best Is Yet To Come, you ain’t been blown until you’ve had a gum job!” Never in long ages had I heard a grown man laugh so hard and for so long – a fellow cab driver going in the opposite direction even honked at him and asked what was so funny.

After having sat in traffic for far too long, though the metre read 12£, he asked for a 10£ note and thank me, saying he ought to have paid me for the company and humour. With that, I dashed past St. James Palace en route for The Mall which, of course, was closed. Finally, I made it up to the Queen’s Gallery and took in the Russia: Royalty & the Romanovs exhibition, which did offer some truly inspired gems from the Royal Collection.

Well, of course, he ruled something.

I was reminded in this portrait of Tsar Nicholas I of the 1970s when the goods were readily on display; however, along came AIDS and all that display and ogling readily evaporated. Instead, men were morphed into true peacocks with long blow-dry locks, which really did become tiresome after a season or two. Now, of course, it is the great and truly civilised age of the Internet, which lest you forget, is saturated with more than 80% pornography.

The Vladimir Tiara which is not dissimilar to the Cambridge Lover’s Knot Tiara, which always looked truly handsome when worn by the ravishing, Diana, Princess of Wales.

Set in the green drawing room at Windsor Castle, where on May 19, 2018, Alexi Lubomirski took the official photographs of the wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex, you cannot possibly begin to imagine the overwhelming scope and grandeur of this tableau. Truly, one is left in awe of the fact that HM Queen Victoria was a tiny acorn who matured into a mighty oak who, through her womb, extended her empire far and wide across the continent. This was a ravishing exhibition and one of the most stunning paintings that I have ever seen from the Royal Collection.

After all that inspiring art, I needed to ground anew; thus, I opted to take a brisk walk, cutting through Green Park where the light fast shifted and danced below the horizon… never to be experienced again. With that, I hopped onto the Piccadilly Line at Green Park Station and made my way back to Russell Square Station; there, I resorted to my hotel room and took a lucidly awakened, dream-sodden nap before getting on with the final celebrations of this poignant Armistice Day.

Before making it to Barbican Station on the Circle Line, I had had the most awakened flying dream, which had me spirited across the spiral arms of Time to a past life in London.

To reflect, celebrate and give thanks, how could I not indulge in an evening of music and song with the London Symphony Orchestra.

Nice, plush comfortable seats with a troika of gay Jewish dancer/actors seated ahead of me. The evening was beautiful, the singing stellar.

As there was an empty seat on either side of me, I offered to move to the left and afforded the lovely young couple from Paris to sit together – she had been sat a row ahead and away from her spectacled, fey lover – he had more than a passing resemblance to Merlin. Leaning in, I whispered to him, “The universe always conspires to accommodate lovers…” he blushed, they both blushed sweetly and were pleasant company that added a certain magic to the evening. Here’s to lovers… indeed.

En route back to the hotel… a little late night smoothie snack was in order.

As ever, sweet dreams, don’t forget to push off and start flying and as always, thanks for your ongoing support.

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Royal Wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex!

May 31, 2018November 13, 2022 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

After having waited months on end, the day of the royal wedding arrived and there was I sporting a killer headache – one of which I have not had in long ages. What with the inordinate negativity of trolls online and the utterly disgraceful meltdown on the Markle relations on the father’s side of the family, I just wanted the bloody wedding to get going. Moreover, I was hosting, in my art-filled home, a right English royal wedding breakfast: six different teas, smoked salmon, scones, Johnny cakes (a West Indian variation on scones) champagne, jams including, of course, guava jams. As busy host, I missed a lot of the goings on as it unfolded live.

Rising at 0300, I was up and ready, making the first teas as guests soon thereafter began arriving for the 0400 starts of the live broadcasts. Naturally, we looked at the BBC coverage whilst multiple broadcasters were simultaneously taped: PBS, CBS, CNN, ABC & CBC. Pandora my lovely sister was in town with her urbane hubby and overnighted at my place so that they would not have to travel far at 0300. Also present was Dr. Lucian Mann-Chomedy, who left his sprawling mansion atop the hill in Hamilton, to be with me; he is a world-renowned expert on Voltaire. Eventually, along came siblings Rio, Penina and Isha with legal professional, like Pandora, Hyacinth Fitzroy-McIlroy.

Though I wanted to take an Advil, I knew that copious amounts of champagne to follow would preclude doing so. Alas, I drank fresh-squeeze orange juice and lots of water. Finally, the fare catered by Daniel et Daniel arrived at 0459 sharp – I am better at working magic in the bedroom rather than the kitchen, so why sweat it!

In between fussing with the catered fare, I caught a glimpse of George and Amal Clooney looking like the power couple that they are. What a gorgeous colour and her hat was fabulous. I especially loved the Valentino worn by Sofia Wellesley with her diminutive hubby James Blunt, a man whose devastating wit makes following his twitter account a must. There was Oprah Winfrey looking regal; she is of course a member of entity seven of cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414, which would make her a cadre mate, along with other notables who are also cadre mates of mine and Merlin’s, like: Sir Anthony van Dyke, Sir Peter Paul Rubens, Jim Henson, Vaslav Nijinsky, Rudolf Nureyev, Natalie Cole, Grace Jones, Annette Bening, Warren Beatty, President Barack H. Obama, Joshua Redman, Katherine Hepburn, King Richard I, George Benson, opera singer Maureen Forrester, Painter Francis Bacon, Lucian Freud, Giovanni Canaletto, Camille Paglia, Cassandra Wilson, Art Blakey, sculptor Henry Moore, River Phoenix, Halle Berry, Victor Brauner, choreographer Merce Cunningham, Charles Mingus, Esperanza Spalding, Alvin Ailey, Zora Neale Hurston, Lena Horne, Jazz drummer Tony Williams, Otis Redding, Vasco da Gama, Roy Hargrove, Toller Cranston, Oscar Peterson, Jennifer Holliday, Roger Hodgson, National Ballet of Canada founder Celia Franca, Constantin Patsalas, Charles Baudelaire, Liona Boyd, Tina Turner, Marvin Gaye, Youssou N’Dour, writers Gabriela Mistral & James Baldwin and comic genius, Robin Williams. Of course, many of these overleaves are to be found across the six-volume opus of Michael Overleaves appendices which accompany my dream-filled, and sex-besotted memoirs a first in all of human civilisation… because someone had to do it first and naturally yours truly has got to represent for the old 1/7/414! Enough of digressing and coming off like that blasted ham, who in true American fashion, the right rev’ron thinks that his grandstanding noisemaking at the wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex was a hit – sorry it was not; it really did a number on my headache.

I especially loved it when the royals began entering from the Galilee Porch into the chapel and took their seats. HRH Princess Anne, Princess Royal’s reaction to the guests assembled across the aisle was priceless. Indeed, Ms. Markle had really sprung the big guns, namely Ms. Winfrey on them. There sat Oprah at the very back where she got a good view and strategically enough, she uncomfortably sat across the aisle from that flat-arsed, no-calved pretentious bigoted boor, HRH Princess Michael of Kent. She is such a pitiable lost soul, she with the million and one tiaras (google image her); she and her tiaras, looking like a third-tier drag queen who’s not done too badly for herself on the pageant circuit. God when will people like her realise that on this planet melanin trumps blood. Oprah’s presence was a none-too-subtle missive, keep up with the racist charades and there will be an Oprah interview. Seriously, that Blackamoor brooch last Christmas worn to the Buckingham Palace as Ms. Markle made her debut was as coincidental as if HRH Princess Anne Princess Royal were to have worn a swastika for the inaugural Christmas at Buckingham Palace when Princess No-Calves’ coke-headed son brought along his Jewish wife for the first time. Poor thing, what was she to do, to look right across the aisle at St. George’s Chapel, there sat Serena, reminding her of one of two of her black sheep named Serena & Venus; to then look left, there sat Oprah, looking as though famished and ready to feast. Matters not, from here on out the Princess Rhino will have to curtsy to Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex.

Wonderful it was to see Jack Brooksbank greet his mother-in-law, Sarah Duchess of York, who thanks to HRH Prince Henry of Wales’ insistence was invited to attend the wedding of the year. Whilst many came and went past the tomb of HM King Charles I whose art collection retrospective at the Royal Academy ranks among my favourite exhibitions, there stood George and Amal Clooney holding court; at one point, they were joined by the dashing Dan Snow with his statuesque wife and sister to the very eligible Duke of Westminster who is godfather to HRH Prince George of Cambridge, who looked smart in his Blues and Royals uniform as page boy which smartly matched those worn by both his father HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and his uncle the groom, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex.

Loved watching the always elegant Victoria Beckham being greeted with a bear hug whilst in the company of her husband David Beckham and a decidedly matronly looking Sir Elton John and his partner, David Furnish. Serenely composed was the twenty-three-year-old Indian charity worker, who looked exquisite in her saree. Though I had envisioned her in saree, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s friend, the actor, Priyanka Chopra looked no less lovely in her lilac suit with matching hat. By far, one of my favourite royals was the very expectant Zara Tindall whose husband now looks even more handsome after corrective rhinoplasty. Whilst the Chicagoan made an arse of himself in the pulpit, there sat Zara who with a look made us all roar with her wary side eye. Seven years earlier, I was equally charmed by her beauteousness as she smiled whilst slipping a breath mint as the soloist sang and the bridal party, TRH Duke and Duchess of Cambridge et al, were off in St. Edward the Confessor chapel at Westminster Abbey signing the registry.

Indeed, Central Casting could not have scripted a more gloriously perfect day. There is a special magic to the isle of England; it goes without saying that it is vibrationally harmonised with much of the West Indies. I truly do feel at home when in England; of course, much of that is because I passed a ‘high-point’ life there in late 18^th century London and Windsor and as well Merlin was then present with me. One thing that I have come to realise that many past-life dreams afford one the perspective of the former incarnation. As a result, as is always the case when happening on a place where I have been before and had past-life dreams thereof, I am always mildly surprised to find that the waking state reality is a 180° reversal of the past-life perspective from the most lucid dreams of questing to previous lives. For instance, Windsor Castle in past life dreams where there is much wood fire smoke, horse activity and the fashion are specific to that time frame, the castle always sits on the north bank of the River Thames with the majestic Eton College Chapel lording over the southern bank’s landscape, looking pretty much like Valhalla rising from the mist.

My first visit to London was so thoroughly confusing, everything proved back-to-front as it had always appeared and been experienced in the most lucid dreams. In such dreams, horse drawn carriages are everywhere with the loud smell of smoke, horse dung. Strangely enough, in many of these dreams, my breath tends to be foul with drink, though, here in this lifetime, I hardly ever drink. This past spring, as I moved through Windsor Castle’s St. George Hall, I was surprised to find the ceiling so far removed. Later, during conversation with a gentle-souled female manager at the castle, I was reassured when she shared that after the great fire of 1992, the hall’s ceiling was raised considerably. I had a really visceral response to seeing the bullet that felled Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson; he, of course, has a storied connection to Nevis. I also knew him in that 18^th century past-life at court when then a countertenor and Merlin, then female, was my accompanist on harpsichord.

There were moments this past March when in certain rooms both at Hampton Court Palace but especially so at Windsor Castle that everything was back to front and I felt what I refer to as being “In-Between” – one does not exactly feel faint but you experience a moment of feeling as though you were vibrationally tuning in between here and elsewhere in time. Finally, with a second round of tea being served, I was able to take a breather and start looking at the arrivals; currently the minor royals were arriving. Good it always is to see the gracious HRH Duchess of Kent in a lovely black and white ensemble; I was purse-lipped as she was being helped to her seat. Finally, a Benz minivan pulled up at the bottom of the middle ward and out sprang two dashingly handsome men, wearing Blues and Royals uniforms. Straight away, I was teary-eyed; of course, it goes without saying that on occasions such as this, one cannot help but think of their lovely mother, the late Diana, Princess of Wales.

Champagne nicely chilled was on standby, awaiting the taking of vows to be popped. I love the fact that Chelsey Davy was at the wedding of her ex, HRH Prince Henry Duke of Sussex, along with Cressida Bonas. I love this aspect of English aristocratic society; their weddings almost always feature exes… and why not? Theirs are very tight, limited circles and exes are likely to be, in some cases, godparents. When finally, I was able to watch the wedding uninterrupted, for having played host the day of, I was truly spellbound and stunned by what an absolutely beautiful wedding it was.

Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex was nothing short of Arthurian as she entered St. George’s Chapel alone. At once she was magical, empowered; a queen staking her claim both on history and her throne. Nothing was more beautiful than watching the Mulroney twins in their matching Blues and Royals uniforms, carrying her sixteen-foot veil’s train, which was decorated in the flowers of all 53 nations of the Commonwealth and California’s state flower. After moving through the gorgeous boughs of white roses and peonies, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex was then met by and escorted by HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales, a man with whom one always enjoys the most august dream encounters.

Seeing the uneclipsed look of love in HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex’s eyes and written all over his face as he drank the intoxicating drink of his bride approaching with his father, no less, made me come undone. Uncontrollably, I cried out for joy and began crying. I cried out anew when with a stride no less confident than Queen Maxima of the Netherlands’, the day she walked down the aisle of Westminster Abbey on April 29, 2011 as TRH Duke & Duchess of Cambridge were wedded, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex did an energetic shake of her head as she beamed at her lover, her champion at her warrior-prince.

At this point, my whole body was awash in glorious ripples of adrenaline as these two souls, who happen to be both entity mates along with HM The Queen, celebrated their twenty-first incarnate relations. The way that this man looked at this woman with open love for her, was the most soul-warming adage imaginable. His cheeks aglow, he blushed, smiled and declared his love for his lover for all the world to see. Long had I forgotten how beautiful it used to make me feel when Merlin would look at me exactly with the same magical glow and twinkle in his eyes. I was so immensely happy. The way they chatted, the way he looked at her whilst falling in love all over again, was the most beautiful sight. Even the way that Jessica Mulroney reached across and rekindled her vows in a touch with Benedict Mulroney was wonderful to have witnessed.

Uncovering her face of the veil and revealing the Queen Mary bandeau tiara in its uneclipsed glory, just as the first time after they had made love and reaffirmed their soul connection, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex said a warm, hi; they were two familiar souls, looking into each other and keeping aglow the fire of their unbreakable bond. Entity mates in love is a most beautiful thing, there is no greater bond. They way that they looked at each other, spoke to that enduring love that had endured across twenty prior lifetimes. Now here they are, of choice, he an older soul (fifth-level mature warrior — fourth life thereat) she (mid-cycle mature artisan — third life thereat); there is nothing that this formidable team cannot accomplish. As it is her third life at the level, expect her to be accomplished, ambitious, daring and a force to be reckoned with. Like his second-level mature artisan mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex has an innate sense of theatre, which was dramatically on display as she walked the aisle to stake her claim on history and validated that she had twice previously been a high-ranking member of the British royal family. Truly regal was she as she walked the aisle to take her vow and return to life, for the third time, as a member of a much-loved institution, the House of Windsor.

Seated there in that beautiful blue dress, I was reminded of Lynn Woodman, actor Wayne Robson’s wife in the way that Jessica Mulroney’s smile and eyes warmed me each time. Of course, horrified was I last summer just before departing for London, England to learn from Xerxes Hamelin, my ex-wife and now transgendered to a bald and bearded marvel of modern medicine that their only son Louis had died at Christmas 2016. Straight away, all those dreams of Lynn looking forlorn on grey-skied, rainy days and always on a bridge before a swollen river made so much sense.

As the service progressed awash in the magic that is evoked by two souls with strong reincarnational bonds, I took a look at the gathered souls. Loved the look of Sam Chatto, he of the pronounced spiritual focus in this life as he sat two to the left and west of HRH Princess Michael of Kent. Also, on that upper row was the young Duke of Westminster, Hugh Grosvenor, whose father, Gerald Grosvenor, sixth Duke of Westminster, like HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales, was the same soul age and role in essence — seventh-level mature warrior soul. His older sister, Edwina had earlier been chatting with George and Amal Clooney with her husband Dan Snow as the guests arrived. Good it was to see the always regal HRH Princess Alexandra whose father, the very dashing HRH Prince George, Duke of Kent after his untimely death may well have recently been Diana, Princess of Wales — this is just a suspicion of mine and not channelled information. I could not though help but think, whilst watching Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex being wedded then later in the evening when emerging with her husband in that glorious white halter neck Stella McCartney dress, that Diana’s soul may well choose to reincarnate to her former son, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex and his very elegantly stylish wife, Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex.

First Duchess of Sussex, where previously the first Duke of Sussex fervently supported the abolition of slavery, a cessation of the persecution of Jews, now here were these entity mates — HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex and first Duchess of Sussex, Meghan, taking up the noble mantle of HM Queen Victoria’s uncle and HM King George IV’s younger brother, HRH Prince Augustus Frederick to work and help develop the potential of the developing nations of the Commonwealth. Sadly, for most persons, these two souls chose to be part of the BRF by unique circumstances; when you consider the impact that black Africans have had on the wealth of the BRF and much of West Europe, it would seem fitting to these two souls and those in agreement within the BRF for them to have chosen to be an interracial couple. Of course, it must not be forgotten that without exception, all Caucasian persons who are gap-toothed were in their immediate past life, black.

When you keenly pay close attention to HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex’s life, you will see this being validated. This man has always had an ease and affinity for blacks whether in the diaspora or in Africa. There was nothing more glorious than watching his soul bleed through its reincarnational awareness, when on a trip to Jamaica, once invited by a young girl to join her dancing to Bob Marley’s soulful singing, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex danced with an ease that immediately made everyone black warm to the core; in his movement, we instinctively recognised his ‘blackness’ – we were responding to the fact that this was someone whose soul had been black in his immediate past life. The way that this man slipped into the groove and wind his waist was as groovy as if hearing Marvin Gaye soulfully crooning.

There is a purity of spirit that HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex possesses, which speaks to the very nature of his soul. More than that, it does speak to his having inherited his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales’ empathy gene. For me a man is most beautiful when he openly displays his love for another human being; there is no denying that as they took their vows, here was a man at his most beautiful. Throughout, there sat Doria Ragland, mother of the bride, a study in dignity, pride and reserve. Of course, any mother who calls her child ‘Flower’ is a mother who will ever be proud of how her daughter has blossomed into her own woman. This love saw Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex become a woman of substance and a truly dignified human being.

One interesting to note is how truly simpatico both Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall and Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex are. Of course, the reason for that being, is that they are both exactly the same soul age and both are living their third life at that level. What that, of course, means is that warrior soul HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales will always be warmed by and favour Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex. Though both are mid-cycle mature souls on their third lives, Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall is, however, a scholar soul. Keeping her grounded and focussed with uncharacteristic drive is Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s warrior task companion. That warrior, however, is not her husband, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex; it does, however, prove grounding for her, to be wedded to a warrior, HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex.

All warriors live by a very grounded motto: feed me, fuck me but do not annoy me! To say the least, Lady Kamasutra aka Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex is ably qualified to ever keep her husband engaged both physically, emotionally and intellectually. Warriors make the best of partners because when the love is strong, they are the most loyal and devoted of souls. Regardless what those on the outside may think – and god has there been a spate of dissenting opinions about their union; fact of the matter is that they are more suited to be man and wife and life partners than most persons in the public eye.

Without doubt, no one wore a more stylish hat than did Camilla, HRH Duchess of Cornwall. I also loved the wonderful hats worn by Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge and Lady Kitty Spencer, daughter of Earl Spencer, niece of Diana, Princess of Wales and good friend of Viscountess Weymouth who would have looked smashing had she attended the wedding. Not wanting to be the butt of every joke, this time around, the Princesses of York wore hats that were demure and understated. Reminiscent of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, HRH Princess Eugenie, soon to be wedded to Jack Brooksbank this autumn, wore a lovely white pillbox hat. Ever exuberant, it was good to see Sarah, Duchess of York greeting her son-in-law at St. George’s Chapel, though, she did not sit with the royals but across the aisle with the invited guests. Kudos to HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex for having invited and included her in the Sussexes wedding gathering.

After that solipsistic buffoon made a point of overstating the obvious – if I were not hosting, I would have readily tossed a box of Kleenex at the screen, it was good to have been wowed by the Kingdom Gospel Choir. I thought that at least one of the female singers in the front row was a priest soul, along with the choir leader; if not a priest, she definitely would have strong priestly makeup in her casting. Their presence and performance were one of the many details, which went a long way towards making this wedding one of the most memorable. Finally, after old windbag’s grandstanding, it was time for the lovely couple to take their vows. Yet again, I was moved to tears. Doria seemed at times to be experiencing rapture during points in the ceremony.

Like Mr. Curry’s grandstanding, there was also a moment that left me disquieted. The moment that she entered St. George’s Chapel off the Galilee porch entrance with the other royals, I was disappointed at the sight of Lady Louise Windsor, daughter of TRH, the Earl and Countess of Wessex. Back in Spring 2016 on a tour of the Bahamas and Cayman Islands, there was Sophie HRH, Countess of Wessex wearing the same dress that her self-conscious daughter wore to a wedding that would be globally televised. Nothing like human society to straitjacket children into rigid social roles. It would have done a lot of this young woman’s self-esteem if she had been bought a new dress for the wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex. There is nothing empowering for any young woman, having to wear their mother’s hand-me-downs.

That aside, there was nothing more glorious than the prodigy, Sheku Kanneh-Mason masterfully weaving his magic on cello. Later, as the married Sussexes emerged from the beautifully boughed St. George’s Chapel into the crystalline blue-skied day then kissed, the most glorious thing then happened. As the unmistakably in love couple stood on the lower steps, the gospel choir again began singing. As if it were not moving to watch, Diana, Princess of Wales’ older sister, Lady Jane Fellowes who gave a reading during the service, there was she bobbing and dancing whilst enjoying the gospel music. And what glorious music it was too.

That song, This Little Light of Mine, was a favourite of mine since childhood. Back on Sunday, August 2, 1964, I had gotten a good spanking, on my birthday no less, from Harella my mother, whom I had always been convinced was not my mother as she was all of forty years old when I was born. I wanted that day to wear my favourite pair of shorts to church – it was after all my birthday. However, the shorts were dirty and crumbled and expected to be washed during the week. Nonetheless, I threw a tantrum and got to wear my shorts after having my naked bottom spanked – therein lay the seed of my crop and riding boot fetishistic sex. Sitting there in church, which Harella owned, I began singing at the top of my lungs, the song of protest. Whilst my mother looked at me, utterly sure in her conviction that I was demon-possessed, I looked away and out the door to the east and the mountain ridge in St. Kitts. Just then, the sparkling sun struck something within the growth of the foothills and it caused a blazing reflection that danced and shone even more blazingly than the sun; indeed, it matched my singing. I knew that day that my mother would never succeed in having me sublimate my will to her and her mad and make-believe god.

As the gospel choir sang, I began tearing up again, as the camera pulled a lovely crane shot back from the top of the St. George’s Chapel’s west door, steps and the couple below preparing to get into the landau, beyond lay the lowlands of the magical kingdom. In that moment, I was suddenly struck by the very real sense of Diana, Princess of Wales. Yes, indeed, her lovely boys were now wedded and to beautiful strong wives at that. Her work here was done; now she could fly off as that crane shot implied to the west, the horizon, the astral plane, the future and to lives up ahead. Diana, Princess of Wales had made a handsome success of life and with both TRH Princes William and Henry fully grown and wedded, her work was done. Even, HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales was every bit a loving, older soul – seventh-level mature warrior and entity mate of king soul and Canadian artist, Robert Bateman.

Without doubt, this was one of the most glorious weddings in long ages. To be sure, it is always good to see two souls with an abiding soul connection, renewing and validating the ties that bind and truly matter. Here’s to TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex!

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Stephen Hawking’s Supernova

March 20, 2018November 13, 2022 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Hawking, Stephen 8/1/42<O>14/3/18

Michael: What you are seeing in the fragment who is now Stephen is a seventh level old Scholar in the observation mode, with a goal of growth, a sceptic.

This is his first life in the last of the physical cycles but we note that there has been tremendous progress here in that this fragment is for the most part transcendent in his ability to leave the body at will and travel through the limitless leaves of the Tao.

Yes, of course he chose to have a frail unworkable body. He did not specifically choose amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. The choices are not that limiting but he did choose not to have to be bothered with the physical body, so that he could finish what he needed to do intellectually.

We did not give a centring here because this fragment spends a great deal of time in touch with higher centres, although he is, as you might suppose pretty much centred in the Intellectual part of Intellectual Centre but is able to use the Higher Emotional Centre at will.

This fragment is lively, bright, fairly happy and although aware of his severe limitations, not in the least sorry for himself. This fragment has been literate over fifty times. He was nine times the tutor to royal children. He was an inscribing monk and did beautiful illuminations during five lifetimes.

He was a scribe to the fragment who was Julius Caesar. He was a lector for the emperor Marcus Aurelius. He was a Grecian scholar on the Isle of Rhodes, during the height of the golden age of Greece.

He was an Arabian mathematician and was instrumental in giving the world the zero to work with, which greatly improved and facilitated the study of higher mathematics. He was a geographer twice.

So, this fragment is no stranger to the world of study, however, this is the life he chose to make his greatest contributions. Many of you could speak with Stephen in the dream state, for he is very accessible. This fragment has many things he could teach all of you.

He has a great deal of recall that he puts to good use in this life. The age of this fragment’s soul accounts for his ability to detach from the physical body. A younger soul could not do this with such élan.

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At the time of Diana, Princess of Wales’ death (August, 1997) Sarah J. Chambers, channeller of the original Michael Group, shared Dr. Hawking’s overleaves with me, along with those of HRH Prince Charles Prince of Wales, Madonna Ciccone, Prince and Michael Jackson. Though it is not listed in the overleaves, Sarah stated in an email communiqué that this would be Stephen’s final life; his soul would no longer reincarnate at the conclusion of this life, which would occur near 21 years later.

Interestingly, as it was his final life, Stephen Hawking in a wrap up of having downloaded his vast intellectual awareness as the ultimate scholar soul would pass or, more appropriately, supernova at the time of the most intense solar storm in long years… there are no coincidences. I was once guided in a dream and told that the Sun and all stars are the portal through which all sentient and reincarnating souls pass between the planes on reincarnating and passing. Obviously, there was a great celebratory event as Stephen Hawking at the conclusion of his reincarnation cycle returned to his entity one last time — hence he was facilitated via the solar storm.

Back on Monday, March 5, 2018, I went to see Darkest Hour with Gary Oldman at the Vue Cinemas in London’s Leicester Square. Comfortably seated in theatre 8, about halfway into the film, I began witnessing a fair bit of paranormal activity. I sat in the back row between two English couples, neither of whom were amorous. From time to time, when actors on screen were in closeup, their eyes would suddenly become black-within-black with fully dilated pupils. There were times, when I was able to make out Kristin Scott-Thomas’ aura — I found her performance exacting and intense. More than that, I witnessed foggy, grey-white tall humanoid forms simply getting up from the seats in multiple rows ahead of me, turn either right or left then simply walk through the dark walls of the mid-sized theatre.

I chose to remain composed because having a fearful response, is all about losing control and homie never plays that. As the experience unfolded for about 20 per cent of the film, it next ventured into territory with which I had long grown familiar. Off to the right corner of the theatre and at the ceiling, there was an aperture of light which opened. Slowly, the light expanded and began a portal of the same soft-focussed yellow/golden light. I have seen this many time before. Next, a series of light beings, say the size of a raven began manifesting. These light beings are illumined from within and have large gossamer, illumined wings which are two-thirds the size of their tiny bodies; the wings also flap about not unlike an elephant’s ears do.

These creatures arose from the seats before me and progressed from left to right and up and into the light which radiated from the portal. Soon enough, I was keenly aware that I was the only person experiencing this; I was never fearful. I did, though, remind myself that personal truth is the only valid reality — at least at moments such as this. Previously, I have experienced this manifestation when persons close to me are about to pass; this can manifest either at the point of their departure or as early as up to two weeks in advance. This has never occurred after the actual passing and never more than two weeks out from the actual passing. What I have learnt, for having done as many overleaves as I have, is that these persons are with few exceptions either entity or cadre mates.

Where they have not been thusly related to me, they have been famous persons on the global stage. The last time that this had occurred was at Nelson Mandela’s passing. This, by the way, I did not experience when the 20th century’s most famous woman, Diana, Princess of Wales, passed.

With regards to Stephen Hawking, I feel that for being in London and 9 days out from his passing, I was being attuned to his preparations to cycle off his final incarnation. The movement of the levitating illumined, winged tiny beings towards the portal of soft-focussed light is always a slow, languorous adage that seems to occur within an aqueous medium. Also, at the time that the overleaves were shared, in a subsequent email, Sarah had shared that he was in greater cadre 4 of pod 129 — the rest of his casting I do not know.

I have known two persons who passed of ALS, which Stephen Hawking had for decades. Both persons, as is customary with ALS, passed within a year of being diagnosed. In the case of one female co-worker, she simply became all-consumed and grew fear-shrouded and cocooned. There was so much fear readily discernible in her eyes. Incidentally, when she passed, I had the exact same aforementioned paranormal manifestation. I have not yet done her overleaves but would not be surprised if she comes back as an entity or cadre mate. Also, after her passing, she appeared to me, in the most intensely lucid dream, very radiantly and thanked me for my support and assured me that she was now at peace with where she was. Obviously, she was aware that I was distressed at how fearful she seemed at the prognosis of imminent death.

Clearly, one can’t claim to know what she must have felt at the time; she, however, had simply become straight-jacketed by the fear of death and her own mortality. Stephen Hawking endured for decades with ALS, likely the first such documented case in medicine, because he had conquered the fear of death. He was totally at peace with his reality; moreover, he was more focussed on being in the now and completing his task of disseminating as much of the knowledge that he had acquired during the course of his reincarnational cycle. There was nothing to fear. Indeed, his overleaves of being a seventh level old scholar soul on his final life was thusly validated as he could not have cared less. Death he had conquered long ago; the body and obsession therewith served no purpose for him. He just wanted to get on with the task in hand of sharing his intellectual gifts with humanity.

More than any other human being of the last two millennia, Stephen Hawking will be remembered and celebrated two millennia hence. Sweet and blissful dreams and it was good to have been illumined by the stellar light of your accumulated intellectual gifts.

As ever, thanks for your ongoing support and sweet dreams!

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All Too Human… And Then Some!

March 12, 2018November 13, 2022 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Well, after having been dazzled by Natalia Osipova, there was no doubt what next adventure my soul had to devour. I arrived at Pimlico Station and enjoyed the cool brisk walk to the red and white gorgeousness of the neighbourhood architecture. I arrived at 08:50, a good hour ahead of the opening. I took the time to place my palm on as many of the august sycamore trees in the neighbourhood as I could. There were some high-end cars waiting out front of the Tate Britain Museum to take in All Too Human as yet another jetliner roared towards London Heathrow. Definitely bulletproof, a stately Benz sat closest to the entrance with a smoky grey Bentley, SUV no less, parked furthest of the cars.

Eventually, persons began turning up and the engaging West African security agent who had the same strong, proud, full-lipped mouth as Leontyne Price’s closed one of the two heavy black doors to protect me as I waited outside the main glass sliding doors as a private event was underway — thus one couldn’t be allowed inside. Finally, persons began leaving, one of whom — in a beautifully vivid red coat — was Cherie Blair CBE, QC. She was proud-looking and had the kind of broad body that as I child was so familiar when growing up in the West Indies. She had that air about her that bespoke a life in the public eye; someone made a curt remark and she was quick on the rebuttal. I was much humoured and reminded of Saddam Hussein trading insults with the men who moments later gladly terminated his life.

Finally, it was on to the business in hand and what a beautifully stunning exhibition; one of the best contemporary art exhibitions that I have attended in years. The greatest discovery was the lush, richness of the Lucian Freud still-life, Two Plants. Thoroughly layered, engrossing and lyrical in its deft vividness. I was left teary eyed by its sublime beauty.

Of course, I was moments earlier moved to dewy-eyed focus when drinking in the rich tableau of the portrait of creative artist and true eccentric, Leigh Bowery whom many years earlier I had seen perform in New York City. I was reminded, of course, in Leigh’s passing of the countless many whom I have lost along the way to AIDS.

The poster for the show at Russell Square Tube Station in Bloomsbury. A wonderful tribute to Leigh who covered a fair bit of ground during his lifetime… sweet and blissful dreams be yours…

Naturally, I booked my flight based on two things: one, Giselle with Osipova and secondly, a joint exhibition featuring Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon. For that, I would gladly hop a Tesla to Iapetus. Of course, this exhibition was a pilgrimage of sorts for me and it was a way of paying homage to the artistic accomplishments of cadre mates.

As per the portrait of Lucian Freud above, these two artists are cadre mates of mine and Merlin’s. Lucian Freud is a mature priest in our entity (6). Along with Rudolf Nureyev and Grace Jones, Francis Bacon is next-door in entity 5 of our cadre. Francis is a mature artisan, Grace Jones a mature warrior and Rudolf Nureyev a mature sage… and how. I was thoroughly warmed to have drunk of their spirits.

This particular portrait, Isabel Rawsthrone, I especially loved. Raw, primal and emotionally intense there is something decidedly operatic about the focussed intensity of this portrait. After initially getting over the intensity of it, it proves rather warm and enveloping.

This was a thoroughly arresting and soul-stirring adage; it was a beautiful way to have begun the day’s adventures.

After walking past the noise of the construction/renovations taking place on the first floor — one of the workers was a real pulse-racer, looking as he did like no end of hot, rough sex and in work gear no less! Then it was downstairs to take in the Impressionists in London exhibition. I did not buy the catalogue. I always am a bit put-off by the association of the word “dream” when describing the works of impressionists. There is nothing unfocussed or diffused about dreams. Trust you me, as someone who recalls at least half a dozen dreams on average, oftentimes, dreams prove the most lucid part of any given day. Perhaps, it was all the wine the French impressionists consumed but the maudlin-feeling lighting just doesn’t do it for me… most times.

Having had my fill, off I went from Pimlico to Nothing Hill Gate in the wet snow and made the long trek to Kensington Palace where one of the most glorious flying dreams in this lifetime was set — also, in that dream was a then incarnate, Diana, Princess of Wales with her two beautiful-spirited sons, the future HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and HRH Prince Henry of Wales and Duke of as-yet-known after he marries his beautiful bride, Ms. Meghan Markle — a mature artisan, to his mature warrior and an entity mate of his no less.

On the long trek along Broad Walk in Kensington Gardens from the high street, I enjoyed the look of snow everywhere. The odd flake fell from time to time as joggers braved the fierce wind off the park. One brave soul with a shock of close-cropped red hair, sported the greatest thighs as he jogged strictly in a pair of wrestler’s shorts. He proved warming for my blood, indeed.

As I got towards the edge of Kensington Palace the handsome raven above swooped in from off my rear right and towards the palace. He alighted, cocked the head at me and kept taking to the wind to come closer, all the while fixing me with a hard gaze. “Yes, of course, you can see my heart. Love is the password” I said aloud to the totemic creature as it kept on calling at me and edging ever closer, though, not being confrontational. Satisfied with my password, seemingly, it bobbed and took to the air never to alight again. I rather appreciated the warm welcome.

I loved the sparse beauty of the King’s Gallery at Kensington Palace, which — for me at least — was lauded over by the Equestrian Portrait of HM King Charles I by Sir Anthony van Dyck, who happens to be in entity 1 of my cadre; he, presently incarnate and one of my oldest friends, shortly is about to return from his winter stay at his Acapulco penthouse; I will be visiting him later this spring on the Canadian west coast.

A truly beautifully tailored, handsome suit, this one. I am not a big fashion person — I believe that one is best dressed when naked and preferably tumescent. I did, though, rather enjoyed the movement through the Diana, Princess of Wales exhibition.

A very beautiful second-level mature artisan, she was too.

Having been inspired by Diana, Princess of Wales’ portrait, I made my way to Charing Cross Station in Trafalgar Square and cut across the street where there was a broken water main flooding the street. As usual, Yoda was there doing his routine and, no doubt, earning a pretty quid. I took in the HRH Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge-curated exhibition, which had opened two nights earlier on my arrival. Though, I had stood outside the National Portrait Gallery to catch a glimpse of her arrival, I soon dashed off in the increasing snowfall, if I were to make my Jazz at Lincoln Center performance across town at the Barbican Center. So, having missed seeing her in person, the next best thing was to go gaze at the portrait of HRH Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge. I love it as it is so layered and complex; she is a late-mature warrior soul.

As I move very, very quickly, I was out of there and soon grabbing a take-away fish and chips at Ben’s on Shaftesbury. I then headed back to my hotel, ate, napped and got ready for a night at Royal Albert Hall to see OVO.

Never before had I taken in a Cirque du Soleil performance — I have my reasons… Nonetheless, I just wanted to enjoy anew the ambiance and acoustics of the marvellous auditorium.

The show was no more engaging or exciting than bad bathhouse sex, which if it weren’t so late, one would never have bothered engaging in. A perfectly forgettable tourist sort of thing to indulge when there was no other nighttime entertainment going that was worthwhile. I could have taken in 42nd Street in the West End but I had already seen it at least a dozen times when then living and dancing in New York City in the early 1980s. The idea of taking in 42nd Street was only slightly less irritating than the thought of messy bathhouse sex… options… choices, indeed!

After the show, on the long walk from Royal Albert Hall to South Kensington Station, a young mesomorph asked me for a fag — I don’t smoke — but it was obvious what he was after. He sat across the narrow aisle on the eastbound Piccadilly Line ride and the rest proved a rather memorable night.

The morning after the night before, it was off to Windsor Castle, of which I will next blog.

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As ever, sweet dreams and thank you for your ongoing support.

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Diana’s Resolve… Extra-Human Tall Whites Arrive.

November 21, 2014November 13, 2022 Arvin da Brgha1 Comment

One of the last dreams I would have, before moving to Montréal from Vancouver, would be a most ominous dream of Diana, Princess of Wales. At the time, my life was in flux as I hurriedly packed up my art collection and made preparations to fly out of Vancouver to Montréal.

As Pandora da Braga had lived in Paris for ten years, after having worked in the Prime Minister’s Office – Prime Minister, John Turner – studying then working as a journalist in the city of lights, I would make wonderful friends of my own in Paris.

Naturally, they all implored me to move to Montréal because they could then visit me and not have to worry about not speaking English. Of course, if you can’t live in Paris, Montréal will make a damn good substitute – the locals’ hideous xenophobia notwithstanding.

To say the least, I was only too happy to take flight from Vancouver which had proven a racially suffocating hellhole once too many for my legendary impatience… to say nothing of pride and integrity. Since I am not in the world to suffer the racial predator overlong, it was time to move on when I chose to. Knowing when to take leave is key to survival in any situation.

The astral plane dream encounter with Diana, Princess of Wales was inordinately lucid and possessed of a clarity that spoke to its prophetic potency. Of course, on awaking from the dream, I had completely misread the message of the dynamic being played out. At the time of the dream and on awaking, I had assumed the subject of ominous prophecy to be Prince William rather than Diana, Princess of Wales herself.

The dream proved rather sobering. The evening when the news broke of Diana, Princess of Wales’s death, I stood in my Montréal living room and screamed horrified because in that moment I had finally gotten whom the subject the prophetic dream was; it was Diana, Princess of Wales.

There was the same density and foreboding in this dream as in all dreams which presage death. There was no mistaking the ambiance of the dream; death palpably hung in the air.

At the time, it was Sunday, July 27, 1997 and whilst the Moon then transited both Taurus and my twelfth house, I did nothing more than pack and run off to Stanley Park after dark to get one more last session of hot sex in the midst of five-hundred-year-old moss-furred Sitkas.

Oh what delicious fun times! Nothing beats having sex in the middle of nature; it is so primal, so spiritual, so shamanic and elemental.

The dream was a beautiful farewell from Diana, Princess of Wales. I am sure that she would be immensely proud of how Prince William has fared since she bade him fare well in that dream.

Sweet dreams as ever.

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Pandora da Braga and I visited with Diana, Princess of Wales, at night-time, in this the first dream. I spoke to her of her great insights to world politics.

As well, I told her of how much she had learnt in this lifetime – the great insights garnered from her experiential awareness of human suffering and the human condition.

This woman was incredibly powerful in this astral plane encounter.

You had a sense of her very soul itself being present in her body. As this was an astral plane encounter, one was not experiencing Diana, Princess of Wales the glamour puss, the manipulative or, for that matter, the fucked-up basket case.

You saw the power behind the incarnate persona and understood why she was born to be Diana, Princess of Wales. All that emotional baggage ultimately was mere façade. This was a very steely tough customer.

Her eyes were always very direct and clear; they were not soft and dewy or doing the virgin bride Diana Spencer routine. She wore a powder blue suit and was in supreme control.

She then went to a near dark bedroom to check on Prince William, the future Duke of Cambridge. The heir apparent was lying in bed, foetally curled up whilst soundly asleep.

He looked so tiny and so frail and vulnerable that one had to wonder if he were an asthmatic or suffered from seizures. Even though asleep, Prince William seemed emotionally needy.

I was much reminded of Clarice Seberg-da Braga^† in this woman’s resolute steeliness. I stood a few feet away whilst Diana, Princess of Wales stood leaning over the side of the bed next to her sleeping firstborn, Prince William.

The energies here were those of a retirement home or an orphanage. The vibration here was both dense and very sad; it was a most sombre ambiance here. I even passingly wondered if Prince William were in danger of dying.

When I spoke to her, she had said nothing and seemed remote, removed and otherly focussed. However, she was undividedly listening to me. Her focus was intense, with a singleness of purpose that was so unlike her incarnate persona, it was hard to believe that she could have become so legendarily emotionally fucked-up.

For being in this woman’s presence, one realised that this individual has seen a lot. By far, much more than mere mortals see in the course of three or four lifetimes has she.

Her energies surprised me as they were massive. One had to exactly wonder who she has been in past lives. I had a sense of her that she was an early mature soul.

*This would indeed prove a rather prophetic dream. I remember been so upset at this dream that on awaking, I went and looked up Prince William, Duke of Cambridge’s astrological chart to see if there were any indicators that he could possibly die early in life or imminently.

So ravishing was Diana, Princess of Wales that it never occurred to me at the time of the dream or on awaking, to have looked at her chart to see if there were any signs of her possibly dying imminently. Of course, there in her chart was a very ominously looming Pluto square transit which went exact the day she died.

I might also add that it is an afflicted Pluto which is conjunct her natal Mars. Think what you want but there is no way that Diana, Princess of Wales was not assassinated.

She was, in the dream, clearly resigned to her fate. She was obviously aware of her role in the historical drama being played out and she, finally, fulfilled her role with great aplomb. END.

**Of course, at the time when living in Vancouver, where the dream was dreamt, I had attended a dinner party at friends’ Sentinel Hill bungalow where a gay South African of British aristocratic heritage spoke at length about Charles and Diana and their ‘child’. Said he, Harry was not the child born out of wedlock – the second born was a real Windsor prince. The real bastard had been her firstborn which meant a lot, especially since the Bourbon father was Catholic – little else was then divulged. This was in late 1995 – with Nelson Mandela coming to power, he like many whites fled South Africa with a sizeable colony settling in the lower mainland – when Charles and Diana clearly were headed for divorce. That dinner party was the second time that I had heard this rumour about Diana’s sons.

A couple of years earlier, after I broke off relations with Manhattan cabaret singer Frans Bloem as a dinner guest of his proved a vile racist Jew, who vehemently denied that Blacks had any connection, let alone claim, to Jazz. I promptly decamped for the rest of my vacation from Frans’ West Village apartment to Chelsea with an old dancer friend, whose lover had died of AIDS and left him fabulously well-off. One evening, we went to a dinner party on the Upper West Side where the view across Central Park was to the condo where Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis would die short months later. Present at the lovely dinner of a wealthy Mexican, whose home was truly grand, was a Spanish aristocrat; he spoke at great length of Diana and Charles – it was the time of their recent separation. The minor Bourbon royal was keen to let it be known that Juan Carlos, the King, was William’s father and not Charles. This he said with great pride and who knows, added he, maybe one day the Church of Rome would reclaim Westminster Abbey and Britain become annexed to Spain. END.

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Then, in this the second dream, I entered a film which advanced back in time. I was taken back to the beginning of my reincarnational cycle here on Earth. That is to say that for my soul’s experience here on Earth, it was the beginning of time.

There were lots of heavy-looking satellites here. As a result, the celestial lights are strange as compared to contemporary times. There was a sense of purple intensely coming through from the light spectrum.

Too, blue came through strongly here rather than the intense ‘white’ with which we are so accustomed. A very interesting phenomenon this was.

This was a very rocky terrain as I stood looking down to a spectacular vista below. Next, there was a mass influx of people who came from another planet.

There had been a mass exodus to Earth. The arrivée extra-human’s spaceships were not all that sophisticated comparable to today’s space shuttles. When they disembarked, they were an unusually tall race of Whites.

They averaged over seven feet each, on the short side, pushing nine feet; even the women were in excess of seven feet tall. They were a shabbily dressed group. Too, they looked truly shell-shocked; it was as though they had had to take flight in a hurry.

Seemingly, there had been a massive apocalyptic crisis which had precipitated their sudden departure. As a result, they had ventured here to take up residence on Earth. They seemed as if refugees from a war zone.

They were, the whole group of them, quite a mess. Immediately, they set about on a campaign to subjugate the planet and make it theirs. Theirs was a focus that was driven of their having been from elsewhere.

This was hostile territory that had to be tamed and made to order; the new planet, Earth, had to support their agenda and nothing more. This was the beginning of a reign of terror which clearly endures to this age.

They had a series of rulers, who came with the mass exodus, all of whom were male. They were a militaristic culture. They were the quintessential warrior warlords; brutish and sadistic to the core were they. They had no qualms about killing.

They couldn’t have cared less, after all, about the people whom they were killing; after all, they were all merely humans and not of their extra-human race.

They were brutish specimens, the hunter-warrior extra-humans, with thick full beards. These were a people who had known nothing but a long history of warfare. They were bred to be killers. Truth be told, they were deadly and at war with life itself.

Alas, it was a sad but true fact and one that was rather insightful as to the real deal behind history of this planet. As life on Earth ultimately proved a non-viable long range proposition, they elected to adapt to Earth by breeding with select humans.

The group which proved, in the long term to be most viable for their genetic stock to endure and prosper would become today’s Caucasians. As a result, the hybridised Earthly humans became as if at war with themselves. Incidentally, all the racial groups were hybridised; however, what would become Caucasians were deemed most desirable.

I have always thought it very interesting that the all-dominant White tribe is home to Europe, the only continent on the planet where the inhabitants never constructed pyramids. They, pyramids, are in Africa, the Americas and Asia but not to be found in Europe.

These people were truly Hitlerian in their savagery. I could see how easy it was for the true Earthlings to have been subjected by these people.

The locals were a peaceful people who lived close to and in accord with nature – that included the pre-hybridised Caucasians. Then along came this exodus of Tall White extra-humans who proceeded to subject both them and nature.

This seemed to have, perhaps, been in New Zealand but it was obvious from what I learnt here that the invading Whites had touched down in several locales on the planet.

Theirs was an agendum whose task demanded timely action over a given breath of time. They were intent on suppressing the Earthlings, all over the planet. When their extra-human stock began dying out, they then elected to hybridise the native humans of Earth.

Obviously, at the end of this campaign, they would then choose to settle in Europe. What was really telling in all of this was the fact that all of life in the Universe is cyclical.

To that end, we see history being repeated in modern times with the campaign begun by Christopher Columbus. There is nothing ennobling or uplifting about this European exodus which, as per the panorama I witnessed, mirrored the campaign of the Tall White extra-humans on their arrival to Earth. Though less savage, the strong Tall White extra-human genetic markers in Caucasians has affected their outlook on being focussed here on Earth.

As a result, the hybridised Caucasians humans’ raison d’être has been about warfare, rape and separatism. Notice, too, that until the rise of Judaism, there were no patriarchal religions on this planet. Religions weren’t of any use, prior to the arrival of the Tall White extra-humans, as all the people of Earth were living in accord with nature.

Too, the rise of Judaism marked the ascent of the notion of a single god and, most of all, one which was vengeful, warring and decidedly patriarchal. Like the orthodoxy of Judaism, it was anathema to the arriving extra-human Tall Whites to mix or cohabit with the true Earthlings – at least until their long term survival proved impossible.

That aside, the extra-human Tall Whites went about suppressing the planet. They did so in a reign of terror that was truly horrific. They murdered and savaged the Earthlings with ferocity that one would a species which was not one’s own.

The Earthlings were being killed as though they were an infestation of vermin who had to be culled and controlled. This they did in their campaign to make the planet viable for their extra-human Tall White stock.

So very telling as this is precisely the repeated/mirrored history which we are living today. A history, indeed, in which the White Tribe has spread over the planet in the last half millennium, displacing the local Earthlings in their path. Sadly, so dominant is the Tall White extra-human genetic makeup in hybridised Caucasians, it has been as though their fellow humans were not also human.

This has being most actively pursued in Africa at present which thanks to racism makes it permissible. Truly horrific a spectacle this proved. Devastating were the campaign’s results, to say the least, on the locals then as now.

*I must note here, though, that the original Tall Whites were little related to today’s Whites. Not only were they close to nine feet tall, if not more, they were pasty to grey-white in colour.

In the true sense of the word, they were Tall Whites rather than Caucasians. END.

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When planning to go to a movie, in this the third dream, I had asked Ian Banks Jr. if he would accompany me. Flatly, he replied no.

The look on his face was truly hostile as if to ask if I were out of my mind to have asked him. I was very stunned, in fact, by his reaction.

In any event, I readily recovered and went off looking for a seat in the theatre. I ended up close to a White couple with three small kids.

The children were talkative but there was nothing objectionable in their behaviour. I actually quite liked being near them with their refreshing playfulness and spontaneity.

As the house lights went down and everyone grew quietly anticipatory, I seamlessly refocussed from the dreamtime to the waking state.

*On awaking, I felt exhausted from the travel involved in moving back in time to seeing and experiencing the arrival of the Tall White extra-humans. I took the time to remain in the pyramid, after having recorded the dreams, to meditate with crystals and thereby restore my energies. END.

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Photo/Art: HRH Diana, Princess of Wales

Oil on Canvas

64 x 40 Inches

Provenance: Collection of Charles, Ninth Earl of Spencer.

http://www.spencerofalthorp.com/

http://www.nelsonshanks.com/

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Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul.

Tag: Diana Princess of Wales

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