What is God?

I hope that the information in this blog will help you to understand yourself and the world around you much better. I am giving this information to you free of charge but at least, if you are inspired by anything written here, have the decency to give my name to anything you use. With many thanks.



In my last post I mentioned the system I call the Super-Brain having previously been named 'God'. I would like to explain more about this.

When I was a small child I had an immense amount of Biblical dreams and became obsessed with the man called Jesus in the Bible. I dreamed that I was always with him. When I told my Mother about the dreams she forbade me to speak of them. She said it made her afraid that God was going to take me, that I was going to die. I never spoke of them again but they continued to happen. I also had many strange experiences that religionists would call 'ecstasies' during my childhood. I recall going to the Scottish Highlands for the first time in my forties. Looking out over one of the many glens on my first day I wept at the sheer beauty of the place. My whole being was filled with awe and it was as though so much of this sensation had filled me that it spilled over and the tears streamed down my face. The experiences I had as a child were like this. I was filled with love until the feeling spilled over. This is the only way that I can describe them. I never spoke about them much, mainly out of embarrassment. But, over the years, I've come to understand what they were.

As the years went on and I was in High School, I was obsessed with Jesus. I didn't read the Bible. I wasn't interested in learning about what he was supposed to have done in his life. I just 'knew' the man. I loved art at school and wasn't bad at it, selling some of my work for pocket money. The work I did for myself, however, was all about Jesus. I sketched images of Biblical scenes and I even painted a portrait of him for my art exam. I recall seeing a program about his life and being totally inconsolable at his death. I never spoke, obviously, to the kids around me at school. They thought I was weird enough as it was! I wasn't interested in making myself look older than I was to get into nightclubs like the other girls in my form or the latest fashions. All I wanted to do was 'be' alone in the landscape. I was absorbed by the trees and the rivers, the hills and the vales near where I lived. When I was ten years old I was bought my first pony who was wonderful and we became firm friends. Being with him enabled me to travel further afield into the landscape and we shared great times together.

I was, however, driven mad by the feelings within me which were deep yearnings for 'something' that I could not describe at the time. My next-door-neighbour when I was small, was a devout Roman Catholic and told my parents, after one of our deep discussions about my views on who God was, that I should enter a convent. In her opinion I had definitely 'had the calling'! I knew that this wasn't for me though. One rainy and dark morning I set off on Bambi, my pony, and rode all the miles from the farm where he was stabled to a large crucifix at a place called Cobden Edge in Marple, Cheshire, England, which I believe, is still there. It was a long ride and we were both soaked. I tied Bambi to a small tree and went up to the crucifix. From that point on the hilltop you can see for miles. The clouds were dark and the rain poured, but there, in my tiny childhood mind, I called out through tears to that 'something' in 'that place I yearned for'. I cried for help to show me why I was here. I knew then that I had a purpose but I had no idea what that purpose was.


I have had some incredible messages over the years in the spiritualist churches I secretly attended in my late teens and early twenties which confirmed that I had some information that I needed to impart and I was given two important messages that linked me to the man known as Jesus. For someone who had spent their whole life to that point seeking answers to questions they didn't even know how to ask, all those messages gave me some kind of hope.


After all these years of searching, I really feel now that I have the answers I would love to be able to give myself as that small child clinging to the bottom of that huge wooded cross on Cobden Edge fifty years ago.


My personal experiences of Christianity, having been brought up in a Christian household, are that whatever we do, whatever happens to us, God loves us. All the trials and tribulations we go through in our lives are all tests of our strength and faith and overcoming those obstacles quietly and observantly will create a wonderful place for us in the peace of the hereafter....heaven.


What a load of twaddle!


Please don't get me wrong, I haven't become a believer in absolutely nothing after we pass through death. I've had an experience that allowed me to know that our consciousness survives which happened during one of the darkest periods of my life. When I was small, my homelife wasn't particularly happy and when I went to bed at night I imagined that God was this huge chap, sitting on a throne wearing large velvet robes and sporting a long white beard. I used to imagine that me, being a tiny little human child, could crawl up into one of the creases in the arm of his robes where nobody, including him, could see me but I would be safe and away from persecution. I guess he must have been a cross between God and Santa Claus in my little mind at that time. However, that was the impression that religious education had taught me and it gave me some comfort at the time. I suppose in the minds of many Christian folk, that impression would still comfort them today. The belief in that kind of God offers excuses and forgiveness for everything we do and takes away our responsibility to be better individuals ourselves.

In my later years, I've looked at all sorts of God beliefs from many Gods to one of them and they all have the same strands running through them. From being very young, with all the strange experiences I had of 'something' outside of the 'norm', not only was I drawing and painting images relevant to them but I was writing constantly. Into my teens and right through to my late thirties I was writing in the same style which was very scriptural.

I used to visit local spiritualist churches and read some of my work in the open circles at the end of the services. One afternoon I was pressed to go to a church I hadn't been to before. In what I considered was a mistake I arrived at the church much earlier than the service started. An old man had also arrived too early and I asked if I might sit with him, out of good manners, and wait. He asked me directly if I was a spiritualist medium to which I replied that I wasn't and that I didn't really know what I was but that I wrote 'stuff'. He looked very pleased at this and asked if he might read some of my work there and then. I passed him my file and this he did. By this time the service was due to begin and other people had arrived. He asked if he might speak to me after the service to which I agreed. We spoke outside. A night I will never forget. He told me that he had been in a bed of sickness all that week and that he did not have long to live. He told me that he had been searching for the 'woman with the writings' for very many years and that I had no idea of the depth or origin of what I was writing. Since our meeting I have spoken to several people who knew him for many years before me and it was very much the standing joke to ask if he'd found the woman yet. To cut a very long story short, over the two years that followed before his death in 1998 he taught me the basics, rather like a kindergarten teaches the alphabet, of what I was writing to enable me to read it correctly. He also gave me some very crazy messages about who I was and what my purpose in this reality is. It actually correlated with others I had received and also one that I received from a chap completely out of the blue in another country some years after my friend had died. So from all of my lifetime's experiences and all of the messages and all of the translated information that I now have in my consciousness I know what God is and God is not that big old man dressed in velvet robes with a long white beard that I visualised when I was so small! I don't want you to think that because I don't accept the present understanding of a God or Gods or whatever that I am a total atheist. This I really am not. What I have come to know as Him-Who-Is has a long explanation. 'He' and 'She' don't exist in the way we understand them but I do not want to refer to what I understand as the root of our existence as 'It' because that feels cold and disrespectful. What I understand as the root of our existence is warm and pure love. However, without understanding, with ignorance and arrogance, humans have misconstrued their own language and because they cannot read, they do not know their true origins. They themselves have created hatred.


The masculine element of God is derived from the root mechanics of all reality. Feminine is derived from the first manifestation of those masculine mechanics. Therefore male is always inside female in the true marriage. Male and Female we are, both. We are, each of us, the ultimate hermaphrodite.

In a presentation I gave as part of several this past year, I described what is known as the Divine Masculine being the source of the Divine Feminine. Boy did I get into trouble from a feminist sitting in the audience. I was told that everyone knows that the Divine Feminine came first and that I might do better if I presented this the correct way around. No and yes! The Divine Feminine is the first recognised element of creation as matter. However, the root mechanics are masculine. Without male entering female there is no union and therefore no manifestation, no continuation, no resurrection, no reality. This union is the true marriage from which there cannot be divorce.

There is so very much to explain and I am hoping to endeavour not to make each blog entry too long. So I will close this one here but I will say to you that the man Jesus did not die the death that Christians believe. When you fully understand your language once more you will know that his resurrection was through his children.