(M.J.E. Spirit / Sun., 9 Apr., 1995)

Spirit Dialogues

Explorations of Spirit
by Michael Edwards

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Sunday, 9 April, 1995

      Michael: Good morning, Bivalia.

      Bivalia:[a] Good morning to you. This is very bright and early to hear from you.

      Michael: Yes, there's a reason. And with pencil and paper too - my computer's being fixed.

      Bivalia: Goodness me - what is the world coming to, you being reduced to pencil and paper? Definitely "lo-tech".

      Michael: Yes, I know. I'll type it into the computer later, in order to print out - at the moment I'm using an almost unreadable semi-shorthand. I wish I'd learned shorthand properly, as I once intended. But as it is, I'm using an ad hoc system of abbreviating words to the bare minimum of letters to be recognizable, cutting out most vowels, word endings and the like.
      I can tell you, once you're used to typing, it's almost unbearable to revert to longhand, especially if you have to write it out fully and neatly (which I'm certainly not doing now).
      Also, typing wrecks your handwriting - my writing is much less neat now (even when I'm trying to be neat, which I'm not now) than it used to be. I suppose it's lack of practice - I just type anything extended nowadays, such as channelling you, writing letters, etc.
      And when I do type this, I bet I'll do a bit of revising along the way, amplifying my thoughts or explaining things more clearly than I can think of now. And if I alter your words, it will only be to clarify or amplify what I consider to have been implicit in your words to begin with.

      Bivalia: That is your privilege, and one of the privileges of writing. We've discussed the question of revision before and it doesn't worry me. It is an inherent part of the medium of writing, and if you revise my words as you type, later on, I will be there guiding you, and I trust you to do it honestly.
      Anyway, what brings you to me now?

      Michael: I've just woken up, and I had this dream. It was immensely complicated, covering what seems to be a whole universe of its own, and I don't remember many details. But I dreamed about the Indian-Pacific again, quite a different dream from the previous one, and a very haunting one it seemed, too, just so full of nostalgia. That was early on. Much else happened, of which I remember very little. Some of the scenes of the dream seemed familiar, and seemed to hark back to earlier parts of my life, as my dreams so often do. The places and events seem the same as in real life, yet quite different also. Perhaps you're right that there's really a higher-world translation or analogue of those earthly things - I don't know.

      Bivalia: I do, though. Yes, that is correct.

      Michael: I seemed to be doing an awful lot of travelling. I vaguely remember flying over difficult, wild terrain (by myself, not in a plane), eastwards to some town or other. I think the general area of territory is familiar from previous dreams - I think I once said before how my whole dream world has a certain consistency, their own self-contained geography almost, certain locations which are common to different dreams. I forget why I was flying thus, but it seemed important. I remember walking along diagonal streets on foot, and seemed to encounter Pentecostal churches, somehow. I think some of the people there were familiar, perhaps from other dreams, but (as in real life) I felt no kinship with that style of religion or those people. There was this giant party, with hundreds of people, some of whom I knew, and some of whom seemed to be public figures such as Jeff Kennett and Nelson Mandela.[b] There was a feeling as if this marked the end times of the world, or something like that. We were all very friendly and embracing each other, friends and strangers alike. (I seem to particularly remember embracing Nelson Mandela as if I knew him quite well.) That is one of the last bits of the dream I remember.
      I just let all that pour out without self-censorship. I wish I could remember, because parts of that dream have a haunting familiarity, a sense of wonder or magic - especially the Indian-Pacific bit, which I want to return to.
      I'm not sure if I was travelling in the train or not - that seemed to vary according to the part of the dream. But the train itself seemed like a whole world on its own, and a very wonderful one I felt a real affinity for. But also, there was music going on. I don't know if it was background music, just like so many locations in this physical world are afflicted with, like a cancer, or whether it was superimposed on the dream by higher forces but not really part of it, or what. But that music seemed very Mozartian somehow, although I didn't recognize it as a particular Mozart piece; yet at the same time it seemed to evoke or express the very essence of the Indian-Pacific train. It seemed to be a piano concerto, something for piano and orchestra. One bit seemed to be in E-flat major, another bit in B major (the latter my favourite key, incidentally).

      Bivalia: This is very interesting. Although you don't remember many details, I read between the lines and see this as quite a spiritual dream. Can you remember how this music went now?

      Michael: Unfortunately, no, mostly. There are only 4 bars of the music which I still have definitely.

      Bivalia: Stop.

      Michael: Why?

      Bivalia: Stop right now, and do something for me, will you?

      Michael: What?

      Bivalia: I want you to stop channelling for a moment and write those bars down, in as much detail as you can remember.

      Michael: Okay, if you think I should.


      Michael: I've done it. But, as I say, I don't know if it's really my idea.

      Bivalia: It doesn't matter for now.

      Michael: It sounds very like a theme from the slow movement of a Mozart piano concerto, although I don't recognize the actual tune. But Mozart wrote about 27 piano concertos, as well as lots of other concertos for other instruments, symphonies, sonatas and so on, most of which I don't have either recordings or scores of, so I don't see how I can check whether the theme I just wrote down is actually in one of them or not. And as long as there seems a possibility that it may be in one of them, I couldn't use the theme for one of my own pieces.

      Bivalia: I'm not asking you to. That can come later, if it seems appropriate.

      Michael: We'll see about that. I'm extremely purist about not borrowing these from other composers, totally so in fact. I'm more puritan than any other composers I know about that. Most composers have borrowed themes at some stage of their career. It's acknowledged - there's no deception about it, passing it off as their own theme or anything; but I won't do it myself, even while acknowledging it. I'm willing to use a general style or approach to composing that originated with another composer (by contrast, I'm more permissive than most composers about that), but as for actually quoting a particular theme - never. I'm so purist about that I wouldn't even use a folk-tune, which most composers see as quite legitimate. But I am concerned that my music should be mine, not partly someone else's.

      Bivalia: Okay. That's your right and privilege as a composer to take that stand. But you occasionally dream about music, the most wonderful music which is usually your own, and in your own style, but you never remember it on awakening. But now that you've remembered a fragment, I just wanted you to write it down, even if it does seem Mozartian.

      Michael: It's much simpler in style than the music I sometimes dream of which I don't remember. That is much more complex and doesn't seem Mozartian or anyone else at all. (My wrist aches awfully - I don't know how much longer I can continue this.)
      But sometimes that music seems so wonderful in the dream, like a glimpse of heaven, almost, that it is one of the things that makes me think after all that perhaps I do have it in me to write wonderful music. And such dream music often seems familiar somehow, although I'm sure it's new (mostly, if not this time), not something I know in waking life. But it's funny that dreams can seem to have that magic and wonder - it's something beyond anything I can dream up or imagine while I'm awake.

      Bivalia: Dreams indeed can be a window into realms beyond.

      Michael: It's funny the dream should come at this time; last night I was feeling quite depressed, and most unspiritual. I've had very little in the way of spiritual thoughts, except to say occasionally to Sananda (especially when something goes wrong), "It there's anything spiritual I'm meant to be doing with my life, well I just couldn't give a damn. I'm goddamned fed up with life, the struggles and hardship, and I can't be bothered with it all. You want me to do anything higher, then try to make my life a bit easier then, will you?" - and things like that. I say it outwardly politely, but the bitterness probably comes through like gall.
      And I haven't been composing either. Just a couple of days ago, I looked at some of my music, some of the sketches I've made for those nature-inspired symphonies I've mentioned before, thought it had possibilities, and daydreamed a little, but then a bit later, contemplating it gave me a heavy dull feeling of despair as if I felt sure I could never come up with the inspiration to fulfil those wonderful ideas. Just a very few of those passages, all too brief, seem like glimpses of a vision of a heavenly world utterly removed from the one I'm actually in. Since looking at those ideas, I've not bothered with it, but have been reading Dean Koontz's novel, The Door to December, which is certainly quite an engrossing novel. I've got hundreds of novels I still haven't read, and I feel I could just pass the rest of my life reading, and just say "Stuff it all" to composing or anything higher, which to me is just so full of hardship and grief.
      I don't know what kept Beethoven going. His life was full of grief, and he found composing a struggle. But at least he got good results, which probably encouraged him. The difference between him and me is that he gets the results and I don't. He had the talent and probably I don't. Why should I give a stuff in that case? I'm not interested in adding to the piles of mediocre music that already infest this planet like a noxious disease.
      And I tell you right now, and I tell the Masters, including Kuthumi, who offered to help me with composing: Thank you all for your help and encouragement, and if I am ever in a condition fit to take up your offers of help, I will do so with gratitude - but if I'm to continue to be plagued with emotional problems, depression, hardship, and the like, forget it. I just can't cope with all that and compose at the same time. Maybe Mozart could compose while in the depths of despair - in fact it's on record that he did, and some of the music so written is as happy as a lark - but I don't work like that - never have. Unhappiness absolutely kills any inspiration I might have had. I'm a bit more like Scriabin, who (I once read) was more inspired by happiness than unhappiness.
      So there you have it. If my life doesn't improve, I very much doubt that I'll be able to compose, however many Masters are helping me. And I don't like pain, and believe I have a much lower-than-average tolerance of pain (I've always been like that, too); and therefore if things seem too hard, I'll give up entirely (because the pain of continuing is just too much), and pass my time, my whole life even, if necessary, just reading science fiction, thrillers and the like. That's enjoyable, if not quite as spiritual as composing might be (at its best), and doesn't involve pain. Just things like that, or messing round in whatever ways occur to me.

      Bivalia: What do you think of the psychologist M. Scott Peck's idea of "legitimate pain", and his belief that the way to happiness lies in learning to accept "legitimate pain"?

      Michael: I think it's bullshit - a load of crap. I don't think pain is legitimate at all. And if Dr. Peck thinks some pain is legitimate (whatever he means by that), I wonder what he thinks "illegitimate pain" might be. But I don't remember reading about that in the book Joan I. (my aunt) lent me.

      Bivalia: You're very angry and depressed about life, aren't you?

      Michael: Yes; there's no denying that. I've just about written this life off. I feel as if I'm just killing time as pleasantly as possible, just reading books, tinkering with the computer, just farting around in various ways, just marking time until my death. Things have gone wrong with this life (for which I don't feel I'm to blame), and probably it's too late to repair the damage now, and probably it couldn't have been repaired early on, even if I'd known how to. With a bit of luck, perhaps in the next life things'll be better and I'll get another chance. I like to think I haven't completely lost the spark of spirituality, because I still think a part of me wants to make it on the spiritual path - but conditions in this life just don't seem right for me to do it now. I've noticed over the last few years that more and more I'm pinning all my hopes in the next world, as I see one hope or dream for this life after another crumbling into dust.
      So, if you don't mind, when this session runs down, I'm going to go and get something to eat, then resume my Dean Koontz novel. As for composing, you can stuff that wherever you think it fits.

      Bivalia: Beloved one, I'm sorry to hear you feel like this. I will be with you whatever you choose to do.

      Michael: Yes, you'll be with me, loving (as might all the Masters), doing everything me but the one thing I need and want most of all - and that is for my life to improve. Believe me when I say it is not simply up to my own will. Many of the things that are dragging me down are beyond my control. My moods come and go without my consent, sometimes even with no visible cause. Much of the difficulty is to do with the conditions in which I have to live, largely caused by lack of money - I can't afford to move anywhere better than here, where I don't have nearly enough room, so that I keep tripping over things and knocking piles of stuff to the floor with the merest movement of an elbow or toe. I'm so close to neighbours I can't play the piano freely, so that causes my whole life to drift away from music, which doesn't help my inspiration for composing.
      None of this helps, yet you and the Masters give me your love and compassion, but you can't help change all these other things.

      Bivalia: I can see why you are so cynical of us here in the higher realm, and I don't blame you. But to do all the things you want is not as simple as you might think. Believe me, we don't like seeing all these things ruin your life - but we can't just reach down and wave a magic wand and change it all. If such things were possible, you would constantly see people in your world appearing to conquer their problems like magic; and everyday experience tells you this very rarely happens. For whatever reasons, that just isn't the way the world operates. We in the higher realms may be free of physical limitations, but our interactions with the physical world are subject to its laws (with a few little exceptions which occasionally be very significant, but which in most situations don't count for much).
      When you way "Stuff the physical world - I'm going to just pass the time the best I can and wait for the next world", you see yourself as going on strike, almost: militantly rebelling against the spiritual order, karma, or whatever, and sticking up for your rights. But we in the higher realms are on your side more than you imagine. Your attitude is entirely understandable, and partly the result of your current mood; quite likely, a few days hence, you may feel a bit better, and be talking to the Masters again, and not in that cynical rebellious way, either. Don't put too much weight on those passing moods, my friend, however bad they may seem.
      And yet what interests me is that out of all this anger and bitterness (which you certainly felt yesterday), this dream came, and in an indefinable way it seemed quite inspirational. That's why you began this session, and you began in a better mood because of it. As our discussion went on, you allowed all the negativity to come back (and I played along with it because I thought you needed to work through it all). But it might be good now to return to those earlier things we were discussing.

      Michael: I don't think there's anything more to say about that. I've told you everything I know about that. I do have difficulty remembering dreams in detail, especially if they're complicated, like this was; all I'm left with is a feeling or atmosphere which is usually completely impossible to put into words anyway.

      Bivalia: What is important is that dreams like this give you that sense of hope again. You almost feel the dream is pointing to something real and wonderful out there somewhere. Never mind what it is, or whether you interpret it correctly or not. The thing is, it's reminding you of a broader vision of wonderful things. Hang onto that vision, my friend. This is part of what Sananda meant in that original message to you (at the Crea workshop), about keeping the thread of truth going forwards. And he thought you could continue to do so - after all, you've done so for 41 years already, and if you've kept it going for that long (and through hundreds of earlier times of hardship or despair), I don't seriously suppose you're going to drop it all now, however much you may feel like it now.

      Michael: Maybe. I don't know. I don't seem to have anything more to say. I know you want to turn the discussion back to how we began this session, but (I don't know about you) - but I think I've just run out of steam on that. It's remarkable that I began this session at all, considering all the surrounding circumstances.
      Look, if it'll make you happy, I'll just spend a minute going back and looking over what I've written (17 notepad-sized pages, believe it or not), and see if there's anything I can pick up.

      Bivalia: It's not to make me happy. I am anyway. But I would prefer to leave you feeling better than worse, and for that, it would be desirable to try and end with the more hopeful feeling you began this session with.

      Michael: Just wait a minute then and I'll see what I can come up with.


      Bivalia: Okay - you've looked back, and I've picked up an idea. What seems important (at the moment) is that you've been having a hard time, and yet this dream came, seemingly out of the blue, offering you a vision of hope. It seems to me that dreams (certain ones, not all of them) have more of a feeling of spirituality for you than anything else - more than any amount of philosophy, or even channelled words from the Masters. This is what we should work with. Sananda also confirmed once, during a channelling with Ra, that dreams were one of the best signs for you: they're something you experience rather than just hear about, and they do at times seem to have that wonder you yourself say you couldn't just make up or fabricate while awake.
      You don't appear to be in any mood to make any effort to improve your situation, especially while seeing no rewards for your efforts, even though theoretically there probably are a lot of things you could do. But if you don't know what they are, fair enough.
      Perhaps you don't have the self-discipline to do anything, but I do - and I think I can persuade you at least to play along with me, just for the lark, as it were. We'll be very light about it all, and have some fun.
      Here's what I want you to do - and it's very simple to begin with, so it won't scare you off. Enjoy your novel for today, if you like; but I want you to go to sleep tonight intending to have an inspiring wonderful dream, one which points the way for you spiritually. I don't want you to make an intense effort, repeating that intention a dozen times, as if you're not sure whether or not you've impressed the intention on your unconscious mind sufficiently. Forget the unconscious mind, and just trust it to do what is necessary. Don't strain things, but simply have the desire and intention to have such a dream, and just take the attitude that it will be quite natural, and just flow the way you intend. Do you think you can do that, Michael?

      Michael: Yes, I think I can do that.

      Bivalia: Don't specify what the dream should be. It might be another train dream, or it might be about one of the Masters, or about music, or atolls, or flying, or fairies, or anything at all. But it will be what you need at that time.
      Meanwhile, I will also intend to help such a dream come to you, will help you in astral travels which might be necessary for such a dream to happen. And I will help you remember as much of it as possible the next morning. You should also form an intention to remember as much as possible.
      I will talk to Sananda and Kuthumi and Hilarion and other Masters you are close to, and ask them to help in whatever ways they can. You should also speak to them today and ask for such help.
      The next morning I want you to write down whatever you remember, however brief or scanty it might be. You don't need to have a session with me like this. To insist on such a time-consuming thing on a daily basis would be quite an impractical thing. But do make a few notes of the dream - and on succeeding days too, as often as you can, in fact; and whenever we do have our next discussion, we can discuss what you've written. Okay? Does that sound fair enough?

      Michael: Yes, I guess so.

      Bivalia: And on succeeding days I want you similarly to have the intention to dream along the lines I've described. Also, I don't want you to get attached to having instant results. I don't want you thinking the whole idea has failed if no dreams come. These things don't always work the first time, or even the second or third, and so on. If nothing happens, accept that and try again the following night. If you keep trying, it will happen sooner or later, and will be all the better for having waited till the proper time. Try to trust me and your unconscious mind to know what's best.

      Michael: Okay. But I don't think you can give me the line that whatever happens is for the best. The merest casual look at the world makes it manifestly obvious to me that it is mostly not for the best, unless you choose, after the event, to define "best" in whatever way will make the statement true, given the way the events have already turned out. But to redefine words simply to fit preconceived doctrines is nothing more than gobbledegook of the worst New-Age kind.

      Bivalia: Okay; I tend to agree with you. I wasn't saying that everything is for the best, or that the timing that happens is for the best in all cases; I was simply saying it with respect to your dreams, which I think is a much more likely proposition than saying it of all events generally.
      So I think if you let it happen without straining at things, your dream life will work out in a way that will help you.

      Michael: I hope you're right; that's the most I can say.

      Bivalia: Perhaps by starting thus, we can begin a process of lifting you up by your bootstraps into the wide blue yonder where the realms of wonder and magic are to be found. We might get onto lucid dreaming later, and before you know it, you will be able to compose wonderful music with the help of Kuthumi, Sananda, and myself, and perhaps the help of other beings too.
      I will let you go now, having given you your homework. Your right hand is getting tired, you're getting hungry, and I think the discussion is winding down anyway.
      What time did you start this?

      Michael: About 8.30 a.m., I think it was.

      Bivalia: What's the time now?

      Michael: I have no idea - let me look... 11.17.

      Bivalia: Not a bad session, especially at such a time (and so early in the day for you).

      Michael: Page 22 now.

      Bivalia: Come back any time you want, and keep talking with the Masters, even if it's only at times to tell them how fed up with life you are. Better times will come, and at least you are still in touch with them.

      Michael: Okay, thanks. And perhaps I'll see you tonight in the realms beyond.

      Bivalia: See you later, beloved one.


[a] Tuesday, 26 March, 2002 - "Bivalia:":
      See the first
note at the end of the dialogue for Monday, 13 June, 1994, for the meaning of the name "Bivalia", and why I adopted it in these dialogues as the name for my Higher Self. [Back]

[b] Tuesday, 19 February, 2002 - "... giant party, with hundreds of people, some of whom I knew, and some of whom seemed to be public figures such as Jeff Kennett and Nelson Mandela.":
      It's probably not important to the context in which this appears to know who these figures are. Of course, probably everyone knows that Nelson Mandela was the President of South Africa in the 1990s, and before that an activist for the rights of black people in that country who spent about 25 years in prison for his trouble. Jeff Kennett was the Premier of Victoria, the state of Australia in which I live, and someone whose rather right-leaning political stance I did not agree with. Certainly a public figure in my locality at the time I was writing, if not on the world stage. [

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