Meeting Source ( from Soulskin, by Cordula Frei)

Before she could warn her companions, they had approached the old man and looked into his eyes, which now glowed like electric current. Lifelessly, they fell to the ground. Blue formations of energy were now whirling around the old one, as if he were shrouded in lightning.


She felt every fiber of her body. She breathed deeply into the energy circulating in her blood. How long had she felt this electric current in her body. She knew that it was not his intention to kill her, or the companions. And yet it was in the law of things that no woman had entered his territory before, as well as that it had been said since the beginning of the time that a woman would have to break this law so that what might happen to her on her journey was to happen.


He too was prepared for their arrival.

It went quickly. She was nearing  the clearing in the forest. She knew she would die the moment she bowed to him or to the pulsing blue light that enveloped his body. How often had she heard his voice in her sleep, which kept saying, „Do not bow, never before me.“ She knew that she could not explain that this power was her own origin, a matter of which she was mistress to from the beginning of time, and which she now brought back to herself. Where Shakti, the electric vibration of creation, became again one with the consciousness of the female guardian of life, her magic would flow back and create the power of her thought worlds: manifestations of the pure heart, which at first had to kill itself before this power had grown.

„Kill your heart, you yourself!“, He often said to her in a dream. „You must penetrate the confusion of your emotion and rise with the clarity of your thoughts. Jump into the cool mind of the universe and find yourself there, again. “



When they were standing before each other, they looked into each other’s eyes. His energy, now even more like an electric current, stretched through his eyes, and for a moment they were merged as one, tied together, burnt, cursed, perhaps, or blessed, a second perhaps – or was it eternity? – and then it was over. Through her body, her power had penetrated deep into the earth, and she felt the union of two principles that had once belonged to one another miraculously and had been lost. She turned and knew she would never ever come back. Their share was accomplished, and what the gods would now create with their powers was not intended for a man’s eye. She herself had a different task. Her body trembled and her heart threatened to burst. So much strength. So much love that pulsed through her center.



Each step was a new step in life, which from now on would be created.

She ran and ran and did not know where to go, only she knew how fast she had to leave his territory not to die. The bears, the guardians of the cosmic source of all origin, were approaching, and even faster, faster, breathless, until the old train, panting like herself, appeared beside her, slowing his pace so she could jump up. Tired, she fell into the red dusty pads and breathed heavily. Her body was now gripped by a tremor that spread in waves over her skin, thus leading her heart to the lawn. She looked out the window and saw the train leave the woods, spreading the vastness of the endless desert before her. She was in  horror. Was she alone on this train, racing and rattling, who could not be stopped and obviously had no leader?

Where did he go? She almost dismissed the old woman, who was sitting in the back corner of the cabin and was playing with the basket on her lap. Her shriveled tiny hands held a knitting tool, and the toothless mouth seemed amused. Her eyes were lowered, but she could feel the old woman watching her closely. Desperately, she looked for an emergency stop to stop the train, an exit, while the old woman giggled and pointed to a small gap with her hand. There should it be? How did she get into this train at all? Where were the doors on this train? And it went on and on, faster it seemed, accelerated to pace, as she showed unequivocally that she was trapped in this train of time and space that pushed in a given direction.



She felt, more than ever before in the forest, every tense fiber of her body, and even more urgently she was aware that it was about her life. She had to get off and stop the train somehow.

She remembered the visions she had taken since childhood: she was in an airplane. No pilot was to be found.

The impending crash made an emergency landing necessary. With each dream, she trained the emergency landing a bit more initially  as she experienced the crashes, the free fall, the impact, the explosion of fire and death again and again. At first she felt a shimmering vibrating mass that stretched and then pushed back into the old form of her usual body. How often had she died and not die.



After these visions and a familiarity over the course of her life, she was no longer afraid of death, was glad even about the pleasant feeling of the dissolution of matter, and of the subsequently fluctuating, spatially extended state of continuing series of visions the careful and accurate landing of the aircraft, her body now a respective vehicles shaped by pure consciousness. When the first time in a dream the landing of a Jumbojets over the giant city Sydney surely succeeded, she felt a breakthrough. The missing pilot in the spatial transport had given space to a comprehensive three-dimensional awareness , which could now direct their dream events.

She remembered this. And then she felt the new strength that had just been accomplished in the union with the male guardian of the spring in the forest. She was no longer a victim of circumstances. Her pulse pulsed.



‚It’s an illusion!‘ She thought. , This train is an illusion and you yourself are the illusion that creates the train. Do not be fooled! The only real thing here is the old woman, who fetched a red apple from her basket, wiping her blanket skirt, and biting her laughing mouth as if she were crazy. She laughs at me. She laughs at me as she bites into the solid apple without teeth, and the juice dripping over her chin. And she says: Jump, child. Jump- It is your life. You are the train. ‚

And so she jumped out of the train, mysteriously slowing down so that she could gently fall into the soft grass of the desert. As she squirmed, the train and the landscape disappeared like a cloud of form, and she found herself, as she laid under a hazel-bush, carefully covered with a blanket.

She was so tired. Her bones, her soul, all so tired that it seemed to her as if she would have to sleep for weeks and months to understand what she had just learned without harming her body and mind. She washed herself in the warm moorish lake, and crawled into the warm earth-cow and slept. Slept And slept.


artwork Carter Murdoch
artwork Carter Murdoch

Excerpt from: Soulskin- A path towards Love, Cordula Frei