By the time I reached my early forties, I knew I was in trouble. I had achieved almost everything I set out to accomplish in life and had little to show for it other than a respectable stock portfolio and a shoebox full of badly tarnished brass rings collected while riding society’s merry-go-round. In the world’s eyes I was a successful entrepreneur; in my own I desperately wanted a do-over. I had been living someone else’s life, and it was high time I showed up in my own.
Little did I know that 8,000 miles away, in Johannesburg, South Africa, Arianne, the woman who would someday become my wife, was embarking on a magical process to create the new world in which I was about to emerge. She too wanted more. But unlike me, she had a pretty accurate idea of what it was, and what’s more, she knew exactly how to make it happen.
I have asked her to repeat the story over and over again, never tiring of hearing how she created me. Each iteration reveals a little detail, a subtle nuance that somehow escaped earlier versions. I suppose every child – no matter how old – wants to know where she or he came from.
It started on a late Friday evening in April. Arianne arranged to have the house to herself for the weekend so she could devote all her energies to a ritual of creation – making a treasure map. Just in case any readers of this article would like to bake up their own new universe cake, I’ll pass on the recipe. The ingredients are easily assembled:
A large sheet of drawing board or stiff paper (2 feet by 3 feet)
A dozen or so picture magazines you enjoy reading
Arianne claims she had no idea of what to do before she began her process, but two things she did know with all her heart: One, she would be guided each step along the way. Two, whatever she envisioned would without a sliver of a doubt be manifested. Friday night Arianne began a fast that was to end only when she completed her work. (Her next meal was in fact late Saturday afternoon.) All she permitted herself during the process was water and a single apple. There is something deliciously symbolic to me in the woman eating the apple out of her own hand.
Friday night from six until ten, and again Saturday morning from eight until noon, Arianne meditated. Her intent was to reach a higher vibrational state so she could see beyond the cloud bank that had enshrouded her life until then. She also asked that the way be cleared for her to let go of the past and be totally open to moving into a new life.
By noon on Saturday, Arianne knew she was ready. Her mind had been cleared of all preconceptions and was open to guidance from her higher self. She set the blank drawing board before her on the table and opened the first of the magazines. She read none of the articles, confining her attention to the photos and headlines. Without allowing her mind to enter into the process, she assumed a meditative state as she slowly turned the pages, waiting for something to jump out at her.
By the time she was halfway through the fifth magazine, the message on the Treasure Map had begun revealing itself. She had already had found three key elements, carefully cut them out, and placed them on the board. The first was a beautiful color photo of one of her youthful heartthrobs, Jean-Claude Killy, the French skier who won three gold medals at the 1968 Winter Olympics in Grenoble, France. (Arianne admits to having always wanted a French lover. It wasn’t until long after we’d been married that she discovered I had been a ski patrolman for many years before we met).
The second and third photos were of a beautiful home and a shiny new car. Arianne had always lived in homes that belonged to someone else, and the one new car she had ever owned, one of the original Volkswagen Beetles, was stolen a few days after she had used the last of her savings to buy it. She spent hours going through the rest of the magazines, allowing enough time for each page to speak to her. Occasionally a photo or word glowed with radiance, a few fairly shouted out to her, but most faded into a haze, letting her know they were not to be part of her map. Arianne reverently cut out each element that caught her attention. By the time she was ready to glue each piece into its final resting place she had selected about a dozen symbols of her future universe. Each piece was moved again and again until it linked perfectly with all the others and the mosaic sprang to life. A small map of the United States was in the lower right-hand corner, just below a cutout of a jet plane that represented traveling to the four corners of the Earth. Up near the top were the words “financial” and “security.” There were five different renderings of “love,” some encased in beautiful hearts. Fairies and angels blessed her creation from their perches near the top. When she finished the ritual, it was almost dark, but she could see her future world looming before her, and she liked what she saw.
She mounted the map on her bedroom wall so it would be the first thing she saw upon rising and the last before she closed her eyes for the night. We met two months later.
Not only was I welcome in the universe Arianne created, I am a fully vested co-creator. Our lives have been as magical as she intended, and without exception everything she envisioned has come to pass. A few years ago we came upon a ceramic Hawaiian wishing bowl while vacationing on the Big Island. It looks Oriental with its green cracked glaze and removable bamboo-shaped lid on which is tied a leather thong that holds a suspended capsule.
Each of us has our own tightly rolled-up piece of paper inside the capsule. On it we write our next set of wishes. As each comes true, we give thanks, pull out the paper, and write down the next intended manifestation. This is how we live our lives, taking responsibility for knowing what we want and focusing our intention to make it happen.
From time to time I think back on where my other life might have taken me, but I don’t really see much. Things are much clearer when I see myself fully here in the world Arianne crafted for the two of us that one April weekend more than twenty years ago. The future is limited only by our imaginations and our willingness to let go of the past and enter into it.
Now it’s my turn to open new doors of exploration. I’ve become curious about the infinite potential in relationships and have already written the first three chapters of a new book that deals with how men must evolve in order to coexist with the emerging divine feminine energy that is leading us all into the next paradigm. From here on in I’m breaking new ground, and I need to actually experience each of the teachings and initiations that await the main character.
I’ve been given a clear picture of what lies ahead, and the thrill of the adventure has me well in its clutches. Women will soon learn to evoke and embrace their Aphrodite, the archetype of divine femininity. As they perfect the ability to embrace this exquisite energy, a beautiful tree of grace, beauty, and wisdom will begin to grow within their being. Men will have to become so sure, so strong within themselves that they can readily surrender to that divine feminine and hold space for the magic tree to grow. It is the man’s job to shower it with adoration so pure and complete that the blossoms of the tree are pollinated and develop into the celestial fruit that will transport the lovers into the next dimension of being.
That is the journey that awaits us all as we learn that true freedom comes from the willingness to love with such complete abandonment that one is ready to lose oneself completely in the process of merging. To know this is to know that all is One.
Jean-Claude Gerard Koven is a writer and speaker based in Vilcabamba, Ecuador. He was a featured weekly columnist for the UPI (United Press International) Religion and Spirituality Forum and is the author of Going Deeper: How to Make Sense of Your Life When Your Life Makes No Sense, recipient of both the Allbooks Reviews Editor’s Choice Award and the USABookNews.com Award for the Best Metaphysical Book of the Year.
©2004 – 2021. Jean-Claude Gerard Koven / All Rights Reserved.