Connecting on all levels

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The next morning, I was working away in the galley feeling an excitement. I got subtle tingles of energy all around my head… I knew something was happening or going to — I could just feel it.

I didn’t know what, but I was feeling ecstatic with excitement. I kept wondering why, asking that quiet place within myself what’s happening. I had the feeling to turn my head and look outside the porthole and there she was — “old mother wood” rig.  A burst of warm energy descended from my head to my feet my whole body. I felt so blessed. I felt a sense of familiarity of her energy. I felt the deep connection within. I felt full of joy and couldn’t stop giggling.

She felt me before I felt her, a deep knowing that she’s been waiting for me, waiting for me to be ready to serve. She’s been waiting for me to blend with my energy and pass messages onto my heart. She’s been waiting so so long for me to understand and realise that we have never been separated — that she followed me, known me, conjolled me and never abandoned me. She’s been waiting for me to come back to her.

I waited for my break before meditating. I felt and saw a greyish coloured energy was coming up from the earth in my yoni welling into my womb I breathed this energy up to my heart. It felt like a back flush of oil fueling me. I wasn’t able to breathe it up further — it just seemed to settle in my heart. I did think it was weird, yet it felt so good. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you.

I wanted an answer: Do I or don’t I attend a kundalini dance workshop in Bali? I didn’t feel I could tell people I was going as I had received remarks back tinged with jealousy and bitterness. I’d just had an amazing two month holiday in New Zealand and I want to go to Bail and dance for a week. Certain people couldn’t feel happy for me. The feeling I got back was: yes go to Bali. I will be with you. Go deeper and deeper — like my energy in this well. Go serve your sisters and brothers, serve me. I felt the truth. I feel like such a child, insignificant compared to the vast void of energy. I’m feeling she’s not giving up all her secrets yet… I had a softer, kind of resigned feeling.

Cleaning the decks that night, I felt my back straighten and stiffen up as I was getting yelled at to hurry up so we can start the monthly union meeting. I joined the crew in the mess. Mr. XN instantly stated I was doing minutes.

I felt my stubbiness and in a calm voice said, “No I’m not doing the minutes.”

XN stated: “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

XN started asking why not. I said I’m stressed and over it — I’m not interested. XN stated, “you can do chair, secretary etc.”

I said, “No way, I’m not doing it, I’m not trained, I’m not interested.” I could feel an energy raising in me, as XN was trying to bully me into a corner.

I was sitting across from XN. He had raised his voice loud and angry. The tension in the air was thick as sea fog. The other crew members were looking at the floor. No one dared to speak. I sat and looked him in the eyes holding my ground.

The energy that I felt earlier this morning came up my spine, around, over and in me. It was like a rod of warm lava up my spin — warm but so solid. I’ve never felt so stanch and solid. I wasn’t going to be manipulated or moved.

XN started bagging me out, “Don’t go giving me your stressed bullshit!” He was hot red in the face, eyes bulging, veins in his neck popping,  he was in rage, loud-voiced and incredibly aggressive, using his words, tone and anger, so much red hot rage.

I was in a place of a quiet warrioress, witnessing his rage. I was still as a mountain, everyone in the room seemed to disappear before me. It was just me and XN.

Then a glimpse of one of the men who abused me — my father and a brother passed over XN’s eyes and face, an insight came to me, these men are all connected by having “a beast within” laying dormant until something, someone flicks a switch. I sat there and thought OMG.

XN got on the edge of his seat as if he was going to get up and  physically charge at me, in total red hot rage, pointing and driving his index finger at me as if it was a sword piercing through me yelling “Don’t give me that shit.”

The tension was incredible. It seemed everyone stopped breathing. From the centre of my core, in a firm, loud voice I said “Stop being a bully — you’re being a bully.” “NO means NO.”

OMG this stopped him in mid-speech for a second. Then he started driving his finger at me again, stating that he wasn’t a bully and don’t go telling everyone that I’m a bully!

One of the other crew members piped up and said he’ll do the minutes. Another crew member laughed nervously. I didn’t care, I didn’t care what the others thought of me or my behaviour. I didn’t fucken care.

At the end of the meeting, I was thanked for doing a good job with limited stock and equipment. I sat there with disbelief on my face…. I needed fresh air, to connect with nature and process what just happened.

I went out to my favourite spot. A feeling of shame came up — shame that I didn’t do as I was told, for not playing along, that I went against someone else’s wishes. Memories of my father when he was in his rage — loud, dominating, controlling, suffocating, what he said goes. I felt like I had broken an unspoken rule of our house. “Don’t upset your father!” I hear my stepmum’s voice: “Don’t get him mad! Shut up, dont say anything! Don’t get him started.”

I walked over to port side of the boat, checking out old mother rig. What was interesting was I started imaging that the railing could break and I’d fall in the sea. I went though a few scenarios off how would I rescue myself. Would someone on the rig see me?! I could get on the tyres on the side of the boat and wait there… I thought if I swam to the rig, sharks would eat me. I caught myself thinking what the fuck!

Then an old thought form came… an old societal thought that women have to do as they are told. A feeling of: I have gone against unspoken rules of my mother, grandmothers and matriarchal society. That women don’t have the right to a voice, or to say NO. So I better ruin or do some kind of self-sabotage to not make myself stand out or challenge a man. What a crock of shit.

Sorry ancestors, I will not play. No more.

From early in the day, I felt like I was an XN target. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t placate to a man in rage. I didn’t placate to a “man’s beast within.” I didn’t play it down. I didn’t escape out of my body or run and hide. I spoke my truth. I spoke up and made my feelings matter — that my feelings are important, that you can’t talk to me like that or talk to anyone like that. All the crew heard me. I didn’t placate. I was amazed at myself.

I went to my cabin and melted — The tears wouldn’t stop; I couldn’t stop them. I felt like layers  and layers of years of tears poured out of me. I was a shy, highly sensitive unconfident kid. I was unable to speak up, and being the second youngest — the siblings always came first.

I lived in constant fear, always afraid. Right now I feel so valuable and tender — so sad, as if all the times I didn’t speak up were leaking from my eyes. I had so many insights during this time of great healing. My beautiful sister who took her own life stepped forward out of the shadows.

I realize this is the harsh verbal energy that she coped with. Time and time again, the constant teasing and bitter resentful words and tone used to speak to her. Incredibly fragile delicate fractals of light gently holding her nervous system and wairua together being splintered in seconds. My darling sister, who knew me inside out, who spoke the truth to me and supported me in every way in my life.

I’m so sorry I hid behind you. I wasn’t able to speak up for you, to stand by your side and support you at those times. You were my Joan of Arc. You stood up and spoke your truth. I was so scared and frightened. I feel a sense of what you felt while your heart and soul being shattered by the ones who love us. Please forgive me.

Oh, the deep pain in my heart with this realization. Then a moment of clarity came when at times I have spoken to the ones I loved in my life in harsh, bitter resentful words — out of anger and unhappiness. Oh the shame. It feels like a terrible negative cycle that I myself have lived in.

I’m so sorry to the ones I have hurt. An image and insight came to me and that was the energy that came up though my womb and sat in my heart in meditation was of the Volcanic Hawaiian Goddess Pele holding me, solid and strong in the “face of a beast.” I had an image of lava flowing, burning orange and hot, spreading out and claiming her land.

I felt peace descend on me, that everything is ok. I nurtured myself with coconut oil and ylang ylang aromatherapy oil, massaging my hearth and solar plexus chakra. I sent out sincere prayers from my heart with gratitude of thanks for the insights, lessons and healing that I received tonight. Sending prayers to tipuna and the universe, thanking all life everywhere, thanking papatuanuku for my life, thanking the unseen — but often felt — beings that have supported me every step in my life.

No matter how hard life has been, I am deeply thankful and truly grateful for the opportunity to be a better human being. To be free, without chains and shackles weighing down my heart and knowing that I’m loved beyond measure.

Early the next morning an IR (integrated rating) that I call the Shining White Knight came and said he just wants to say he’s sorry for last night, and that it could’ve been handled better. He said he was sorry he didn’t step in earlier — that he didn’t speak up. Apparently, when I left the meeting the Shining White Knight said to the rest of the crew that I was under stress — that the broken stove tops my tools, that I haven’t had food to cook, that 13 crew are on her back if we don’t like the food. What are they like when they don’t have tools on the back deck to work with?

He also spoke up about the crude verbal abuse another crew member said at different times. I personally didn’t hear any of this. The Shining White Knight said if it was him, he would have taken it further. He said that it was sexuall harssment.

I never heard any of this but I did overhear him say “keep it clean.” What was also enlightening was the fact that XN has treated the IR crew like that on the back deck as well! I said to my Shining White Knight that I thought about apologizing to the other crew members for what happened last night. He said that’s up to you, and this made me think: Why? Why do I need to apologize, apologize for standing up for myself and speaking my truth? I felt I would be apologizing for making the other crew members uncomfortable last night, and then I realised I am not responsible for how others feel or what they feel.

One of the crew members did say last night that he spewed a number of times and didn’t sleep. I was reflecting on how myself and other people behave and react after a tense argument. They seem to avoid the person or persons, or have an energy of “what do I say, how do I speak to her.” It’s an adjustment of energy, a shifting of energetic boundaries. There’s no taking off running away, or the guys drowning their sorrows in a bottle or drugs, no holding onto grudges. There’s only our cabins to hide in — we have to face one another and get on with the job.

Undercurrent Tensions

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A company rung me up for a two and a half week contract, Yeah this will be sweet, easy I thought. Not even, this has been the most stressful, demanding and challenging time on a boat ever…

I had never worked with this skipper before, he was the most condescending person I have ever worked with in my life, he felt it was necessary to take the micky out of myself and women in general every morning at our pre start meetings. I wasn’t really concerned until the rest of the crew started picking up on it and pointing out that the skipper doesn’t call me by my christian name, that he seems to have a list of womens names he calls me by.

All the elements on the stovetop have been blowing out blue sparks, It’s damn stressful to get a decent variety of meals on the table without a stove top. I’ve had to start cooking some dishes at 1pm for the dinner service at 5pm so that we’ll have enough time and space in the oven.   I stayed in the galley and away from the crew. My stress was building….

I had made a list of safety concerns in the galley that wouldn’t pass an audit, such as a fryer position and location (so dodgy). Fire equipment needed sorting, two elements on the stove kept sparking out. I’d call the electrician and he’d fix it for a day, for it to blow blue sparks the next day. I discussed this at our morning pre-start and to suggest a plan moving forward, it was decided to decommission the stove top. Inside myself I was so tense and trying to keep this frustration in.

Also impacting on me was Mr. XN, he was being a loud aggressive smart ass, aiming comments at myself and going on and on. I felt my energy being insidiously attacked, trying to grind me down, to break me, to be smaller…

There’s such a massive undercurrent of tension on the boat. Jobs that have been requested to do in the mess and galley that aren’t classed as important by the chief mate get bumped down the list.

Chief mate is passive aggressive so no matter what was said he would talk over and twist the point. He would pluck out words in our discussion and manipulate them. He wasn’t interested in listening or finding solutions. His whole body would shake like a leaf. He would talk over crew members who were trying to explain the situation. Too many big egos all fighting to be heard and seen. It’s only going to be a matter of time, you could just feel the tension and nasty stuff coming out of people…

There was a massive division between engineers and crew, It didn’t help that the skipper never spent any time with crew to get to know us or have a laugh.

I can not  believe how tight and stressed I am.  I stayed in the galley and away from the crew. I was at boiling point, fucken over it. Mr XN was being so aggressive and arrogant again. Some of the other crew laughed and went along with it. I was breathing deep and  trying my hardest not to buy into the energy….

An easy 2.5 week contract …………. so I thought

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I said yes to a job offshore of Dampier. The cook onboard got called into hospital for an operation, halfway through his swing. In this industry, when there’s work, the crewing officers are on your back like a rash… when there’s no work you do not hear a peep. There were plenty of phone calls and negating to get me up there quick smart.

I had no idea when I would be called for work. I had just started a Tyler Tolman four-day bowel cleanse and was at the end of my first day — an annoying situation as you can imagine! I had never completed a cleanse while working as a cook.

As a child and throughout my life I have used food to comfort myself to suppress my feelings. It started as a child in the orphanage. I didn’t want to feel my body. It wasn’t safe — the pain and grief — I just wanted to protect myself from abuse. I voiced a prayer to god for protection. My whole essence helped to create an illusion: “If I was big, he won’t touch me… I’d be safe.”  Every cell in my body helped, by holding onto layers of fat.

I had to be so present and concise not to give into my mind and emotions to pick at food. The emotions seemed to come from depths of sad emptiness, like ripples on a pond. My father was a very generous man. He suppressed his emotions using alcohol but he expressed his love for me and my siblings with food.  Cooking for six children and the size of meals he served, he got a lot of pleasure from seeing everyone eat. If we had visitors they would be expected to eat. And even if there was no money in the house a meal would still be served.

Also compacting on my system has been travelling through France drinking and eating excellent foods. A bowel cleanse was so needed to get balanced again. My body was detoxing… I couldn’t get over how tired I was. All I wanted to do was sleep — I slept every chance I got. I had some pain in my tummy until I relinquished a 20-centimetre worm. Freakin disgusting, sucking nutrients from me! How long its been living in my system, I do not know. What I do know is my dreams have been deep — waking up in pools of sweat around my heart. I felt amazing after I finished the detox, with more clarity and higher energy levels. I highly recommend it.

It was brilliant not getting thrown about in the galley, not like my previous job on the Bass Strait. It’s the tropics up here: still, sleepy, sweaty, stunning turquoise seas. There’s no visual separation of where the sea finishes and the sky starts. The colour is stunning, so much light, fractals of light — it’s amazing. It’s steaming hot. It feels like you’re just waiting for a cyclone.

When the weather’s like this, one of my favourite spots is sitting on a bollard port-side deck waiting for some fish or jellyfish action. I saw a whale blow in the distance. I so wanted the whale to breach and say “hello.” I’ve been writing and getting distracted by the sky’s changing colours from blues, greys and ribbons of orange streaking against the dusk light. So beautiful — there’s so much beauty out here, so much light, so much life — we are all connected. I want to pull my mattress out on deck and sleep under the stars.

Its so easy for me to notice the small things out here, such as a butterfly flying up to me and sitting on my writing book for at least 5 minutes. Oh hello… We are 180 nautical miles at sea! Where did you come from?

I call these little big love signs. They have a massive impact on my heart, reinforcing my love and connection to creation, that I’m not alone out here on the ocean. Connecting with nature also softens the harshness from some of the men on the boat. Creation is so gentle. For me, being on the sea is touching god, touching power.

Challenges are neverending working on a supply boat to the oil and gas industry

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Challenges are never ending working on a supply boat to the oil and gas industry

The chief steward approached me tentatively saying I now have to share my cabin with a new crew member, as we’re having a crew change and there are no bunks available.  

I felt my defences raise and my negativity come up. My buttons were getting pushed, and I thought — What kind of man is he? Does he have sleazy energy? Will he go through my stuff? Does he smoke?

The crew members loved taking the micky big time, feeding into my fear. I had to stop that rat wheel going round and round in my head.

I got butterflies in my tummy as my new cabin mate was 6 feet tall and handsome, a young nonsmoker and open-minded. I was NOT expecting that. In my mind I’m thinking he’ll be like some of the other crazy men I’ve worked with in the past.

It’s his first time at sea, so he’s open to suggestions of routine and how things roll sharing a cabin. All shifts offshore are 12 hours, so no one is in the cabin at all when it’s your turn to rest or sleep. There’s three men and me sharing one bathroom now?

I’m working nights, cooking while he sleeps. When he works, I’m sleeping. Due to the boat being so crowded and the lack of cabins and space, I’ve come to learn that it’s important these rules are respected and followed. Otherwise, you feel like you’re being invaded. Frustration builds due to not feeling like you have any personal space. The handsome cabin mate didn’t understand this concept and would try and sneak into the cabin when I was asleep, waking me up. I just wanted to scream, “Get the hell out of here!”

As for women on the ship, there’s just myself and a female first officer on board. It’s a good dynamic — we laugh and talk about women stuff. It’s so good to stay connected to the feminine. I like the sistership even if we don’t see one another daily.

We arrive into Geelong port at 2.30am in the morning. The motors get turned off. Ah, it’s so nice waking up to a deep stillness and peace.

The goddess is like a watery mirror, shimmering gloriously, reflecting the rays of sun. I love her. The drains in the galley are bubbling over again — there’s lots of swearing and cursing going on. I go in the chiller — WOW — loads of bubbles have overflowed from the drains everywhere in there as well. More swearing and cursing.

It’s so frustrating — everything is such a mess. Friends and family back on land don’t believe me when I say Im working in a bucket… leaking on the inside.

Two days after Mr PPE cleaned the hospital deck head, decks etc of the content of the pooh tank they put glad wrap over the toilet to prevent blow backs so it wouldn’t  happen again. They changed some pipe or thing in the engine room, and the chief engineer was very confident in telling us it’s fixed now.

However…

Things went from bad to worse — and I mean really worse…. The pooh tanks are chock full to overflowing, and then overflowing into the harbour, or about to. Everyone is on high alert — this is not good. The skipper can get fined up to $150,000 and lose all his tickets.

The pooh truck has arrived and started sucking. OMG the smells throughout the ship are putrid. No one can work in this — nevermind cooking! Man, everyone is so stressed. The contractors have gone ashore to a hotel, and we crew are still on board wandering around like spare wheels.

We eventually get sent to a hotel, and get such a glorious night sleep. Everyone was in high spirits at the breakfast table. After a two-hour wait for a taxi, we got back on board the bucket.

Lo and behold — there’s no water now. So we can’t use the loos, and dirty dishes have been sitting on the bench for days. The crew is sitting around watching violent movies, tv series and hanging out.

I’m on cruise control, going with the flow. On board, the pooh boys were here until 2 am Literally trying to stir up the contents of the pooh farm to suck it out. Then, they inform us it hasn’t been cleaned out in years!

Now the IRs are having trouble with the pooh farm lids, and dealing with nuts and bolt pieces that won’t go back into place. What a drama — more stress for them. But it means another night in the hotel for me, yippie!

I was so disappointed though, as we were told we would be picked up at 3 pm. Hells bells we didn’t get to the hotel till 4.55pm the previous day. I so wanted to go back to the shops and the Geelong wool museum that I had spotted previously. I can’t stand watching the violent movies the crew members like watching, so I settled for reflexology and a chick movie instead. Bliss.

Old Yolla, the rig, has been pumping oil for 20 years or more. Previously, it was run remotely, but now has a crew of ten. What I’ve found interesting with this rig is that there’s a large group of seals that live under the rig. And they say that the seals swim along the oil pipeline to get to the rig. It seems to provide them with safety and food, as all rig structures that are submerged in seawater tend to become reefs for marine life.

I felt the energy of the oil but wasn’t able to deeply connect from my heart to hers. I feel I was distracted and had to be grounded and 100% present with what happened and was happening on the boat.

I didn’t beat myself up for not being better service for Old Yolla, bless her. I trust we will work together in the future… I hope.

Turbulent couple of weeks on the Bass Strait

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I hadn’t worked for two and a half months offshore as a cook, as my contract finished on the previous boat. During this time I went on a sacred site tour in UK, Journey of the Rose.

We went to one of our mother earth’s major energy portals, Stonehenge. We

followed the major earth energy that flows through the land, called laylines. (Some people know them as dragon lines.) These particular lines are named after St Michael and Mary.

I also spent 2 weeks in the south of France attending a sacred feminine retreat, focused on sacred sites of Mary Magdalene and the Cathars. (I’ll write more about these journeys later)

With being a casual worker, I never know when my next job or paycheck is going to come from. Two weeks being back in OZ, I was very grateful for the call for work and was offered a 5-week contract to work on the Bass Strait. I called this boat the bucket. We were a crew of 35.

The Bass strait is a wild stretch of water. I felt the goddess’s mood as wild, stormy and so powerful. I saw the sea spirits whirling and flicking on the whitecaps. Her colour is shiny deep blue and there’s moody grey skies. And “the air” is blowing freezing cold.

In the boat we’re getting slammed — pitching and rolling time and time again. It’s been difficult to cook, to keep my body balanced and solid on the decks to focus on the practical aspects of my job. Its been hopeless trying to sit and focus on meditation. My mind keeps getting distracted by the motion of the ocean.

We’ve had a lot of problems internally with the boat’s plumbing (like most boats). Inside the galley we are walking, working in gray water slopping from side to side with each roll of the swell. I’m trying to mop the mess up, and the squeegee bucket is rolling from side to side — nothing stays still. The chief cook is trying to get the finishing touches for

dinner which is due in ten minutes — it’s such a massive mess. We were both on edge due to the potential of food poisoning issues, trying to sanitise the decks and serve dinner.

The chief engineer is telling us the 2-inch-sized lettuce leaf that’s covering the sinkhole is the cause of the problem. What a laugh… “Chuck some of this stuff down,” he says. “This will fix it…” It worked for a day, and then we are walking, working in grey water again. The drains are bubbling again.

But worse than that, the brasco (toilet) and bath in the hospital blew back the contents of the pooh farm on the boat, dripping from the deck head (ceiling). YUK YUK YUK!

The stench — everything — is just disgusting.

Three hours after the explosion of the pooh farm the integrated ratings (IRs) are still in a flap and wanting to pull straws or recommending their workmates who’s going in to clean up. Right at this point, I’m so glad I’m a cook.

Ha! I love the banter and humor on boats.

Then, one brave soul stepped forward from the masses, dressed in full personal protective clothing and full breathing apparatus gear with 5-inch thick rubber gloves and a shovel. Even with all of that protective gear, still — the poohy water from the deck head dropped down the back of his neck…  So gross! The poor man couldn’t stop washing himself and his hands. No matter how many times he cleaned them, he said he could still sense and feel the sewage on him.

What I have learnt working on supply boats in the oil and gas industry is that something always needs to be fixed, and it seems to happen while hundreds of miles offshore.

After that, it would be nice to say I got back into my rhythm of meditating and being of service to the oil devis, but no –there were more challenges of boat life to come…

Contact with Old Mother Wood

Well 2,

80 ks from well 1

My first experience down an oil well was so challenging and heavy — trying to process dominatrix energy while cooking and living on a boat with 12 men.

And at the same time, it was also heart-opening and healing.

We sailed overnight to reach another rig, I found myself wondering if there was going to be a different diva or energy for this second oil well and rig, that we were servicing. Or, would it be the same energy that I experienced the first time I meditated down an oil well. Then a flick of remembrance came… It was like when I used to crawl and squeeze through systems of underground caving, and there was a different feel in each cave we went to. I got excited.

Travelling down the shaft in meditation of  this well was totally different. The colours I was seeing were waves of tans and browns. The energy felt a thousand times harder — incredibly dense, solid and ancient. I couldn’t believe the feeling of oldness. This feeling was incredibly deep and so old — I couldn’t comprehend the age of this space and land. It’s so old, it’s mind-blowing. I don’t know the words to describe the feeling — it’s so ancient, It’s way out of my experience.

I felt a presence in this space by the very subtle difference in vibration of energy. I felt it come from the front, and I knew it was there sussing me out. I started sending love and gratitude from my heart. I felt, heard in that telepathic way a voice that asked me who was I, what am I, what did I want. Wow, I felt like I was intruding.

I sent out that I was there to give love, gratitude and thanks for the oil. I heard a massive “YOU’RE A LIAR” came back in a deep, hard, commanding loud voice/ vibration.

The energy felt challenging and demanding, asking who and what I was. I felt very small, challenged and said “I’m not a liar. I am here to give thanks, gratitude and love.” I felt so threatened. Fear raised up in me again, and this interaction pulled me from my meditation.

That day and days to follow until the last week of my five weeks of working (called a swing) I doubted myself, doubted my ability, doubted my intentions. Who was I to communicate with oil Devis while I worked in the oil and gas industry, supporting companies penetrating and extracting oil from the earth? I questioned and doubted the material things in my life that required oil to make.

I felt like a hypocrite. Who the fuck was I?

Every time I turned into the energy of this well, tears would sit on the ends of my eyelids and roll down my cheeks. I would pull my mind back to the present moment and focus on cooking again, while hiding my face so no other crew members would see me, hoping the food wouldn’t take on a sad vibration.

I gathered my courage and started meditating again down well two. I saw and felt the tans and browns. And once again, the feeling of the age of this earth blew me away — phenomenally ancient.

Then, a face came to me. It was like a being from the ice age time — kind of like an ape-human face. This being came right into my aura, creating a tingling feeling. It felt like they were checking me out. I still can’t comprehend the feeling the energy of the well and the depth of oldness.

I focused on love and gratitude, and then a vision and feeling of violation and penetration came over me, taking my breath away. It felt like our mother was being penetrated by machines. It felt like women and children getting raped and violated by angry dominant masculine energy, right now.

A vision came to me of my own experience of abuse unable to physically fight back, to scream out, being dominated — generations, years and centuries and centuries of abuse of the feminine. I breathed deep. I sucked in that air and kept focusing on sending love, compassion.

Then the being, energy that I connected with a couple of days ago came though. The energy was softer but so ancient. I can’t comprehend the feeling of age with this earth, my mother.

Communicating with this being was easier, softer. I asked her what her name was and what was I to call her. I didn’t quite get it, but it was like “old mother petrified wood.” I communicated that I was grateful and that I was willing to help in some way, to be of service to her. A feeling of raising humans’ awareness to ask permission before drilling, to give thanks, to give gratitude for everything in our lives that requires oil to make, operate, and to transport. I felt a feeling of not one thank you has been given to the oil diva or our mother for oil.

It takes about a couple of days to readjust to so-called normal life on land. While holidaying in New Zealand, I contacted friends that I totally trust and have known for many years. We have travelled and cleared dross from land, lay lines using sacred geometry to help heal our earth.

I shared my experience with them, and into the mediation room we went. We set our intentions and John invoked the masters to guide and heal. During this time, I connected to the old mother wood well, going deep into meditation. The feeling of ancient oldness was there and then a feeling of the forest’s pre-Ice Age-wanted acknowledgment. The beings of the trees were present in our meditation, and I gave thanks for these forests.

We all gave thanks and gratitude to the devi’s. And what I heard at the end of the meditation is “our thanks and gratitude was a drop in the ocean.”

A friend challenged me that if I’m committed to our mother that I need to start a blog page of my experiences to get the message out to the eithers into consciousness.

These experiences in the oil wells impacted my being greatly. I am now aware of what I have taken for granted in the past — that all materialism is made from oil, travel, cargo, from the things we wear and carry. Or the amount of plastic required for wrapping and transporting.  How often have I thanked the mother for petrol, planes and trains even my push bike?

The list goes on and on.

And then, there was the moral conflict within myself, working in an industry that drills and extracts the oil…

My First Encounter Meeting an Oil Deva

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Well 1,

200 miles offshore

Dampier, Karratha

I was on edge at my first offshore job as a cook. I didn’t know the expectations and protocols. So I just watched and listened to what was said, learning the lingo. I allowed my confidence and personality to shine and steered my way through a routine living on the boat. Days washed in and out, never knowing what day was what.

The personalities of an all-male crew, and being heard and speaking up, all pushed my buttons while floating around on the Indian Ocean. No matter what went on in the ship with the men, I knew deep in the bowels of the the earth I was supposed to be there.

Once I was in a routine on the boat and had more time to play, I started calling from my heart to the ethers for connection — asking if there are oil devas.

The first time I meditated and visualised going down into the well shaft, I had no inclination of how deep I went. All I know it was phenomenally deep. What I found interesting was how young this well felt. I felt I was in a big cavan. It felt like a womb — warm, homey. I could sense the sides of this womb with tunnels of veins going off at different places. I felt like I was in a thick liquid. It was black total blackness. (Na Poi)

It felt like my joints in my body were getting oiled — such a feeling of home. I saw an image with my inner eye: a, slick, bright, black shining image like a being in a dominatrix latex costume. I leapt from my heart to my head in seconds as I felt my fear come up in me. I associated the latex with dark sexual bondage. I pulled myself away, out of my heart out of the meditation.

For the next 3 days I thought about what dark sexual bondage meant to me. It meant total fear — being controlled and trapped. I felt death.

I retracted my energy from the crew on the boat and kept to myself as much as I could, internalising and mulling over this dark heavy energy within myself. It felt like thick, black tar. I reminded myself to breathe deep, deep into my lungs. I got on the stepper and pushed my physical body no matter how tired I was, I surrendered and relinquish.

I meditated down the well again and focused on sending love through my heart chakra into the womb of blackness. I burst into tears at the overwhelming feeling of grief, total grief — so much grief of the take, take, taking of oil. It was a feeling of no respect, no gratitude for the oil taken. No one asked permission to penetrate her or take the oil.

The sadness and grief from this energy was so overwhelming. I felt the tears rolling over my eyelids and down my face as I focused on breathing and sending energy of love from my heart into this space. This space had changed. I had changed, it was more of a feeling of sweetness. I felt softer and more in my body and relaxed.

During the weeks that followed, every time I tuned into this shining being, all I did was cry — tears pouring down my face from the lack of respect and gratitude.

If I thought about it while I worked I’d start to cry. I didn’t need to meditate — it felt like she was at my side, patiently waiting, encouraging me gently and loving like a mother to a delicate, tender child. The grief of no gratitude and take-take-take was immense. It was too much, too big for me. I couldn’t be in this energy on my own. I knew I needed to ask for support from those that are conscious, who love and respect our mother earth. I needed to share this experience with those who might be willing to surrender their hearts in gratitude and help embrace the essence of the oil.

I needed space to think and process. I avoided meditating on my own until I got to Christchurch and the seven rays meditation group. Even though it felt intense, I knew I had discovered part of my calling.