The next day after a peaceful, undisturbed sleep, Molly woke refreshed and energised to find Will already in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He was heading to Wellington for a meeting and would be away for several of days. Over breakfast Molly shared with him what had transpired in The Attic yesterday. He had been patient with her, not pushing her for information last night. He could see that she was overwhelmed, needing some time to assimilate whatever it was that she had encountered. He was intrigued by what was unfolding for Molly with Grace, of the interrelatedness of their relationship, and his part in it. Will, by nature was gentle and accepting, with a wisdom that surpassed his age. More often than not his understanding of Life was a little too deep for some of his friends, but his wicked sense of humour would kick in and create an irresistible attraction. He was able to hold an interesting, in depth conversation with a touch of humour that kept his audience enthralled.
Generous of heart, jealously was not in his nature and he appreciated Molly’s need to explore this connection with Grace. Fascinated by the topic of time travel and the eternal journey of the soul, he was always keen to hear Molly’s reports.
After breakfast whilst Molly tidied up, Will got ready for his trip to Wellington. Upstairs in The Attic, Grace was still busy preparing, for there was much going on behind the scenes in the Spirit Realm. And Molly was learning that this was where everything happened first. Then through inspired thought, creative ideas would be downloaded to enquiring minds and through their actions become an actual experience in the Physical World. This was how many great ideas, concepts and inventions began. The Spirit Realm was a very busy place, with so much happening in a dimension where everything came into being through what appeared to most as the Dream State, or Imagination.
Now that Will was safely on his way, Molly took a walk around the garden picking fresh flowers for her office. Enjoying the warm sun on her skin and damp grass beneath her bare feet, she was able to have a very relaxed start to her day. With a large bunch of fragrant flowers and herbs, she headed back to the kitchen to find a vase for them. With flowers in hand she then continued to The Attic. As she walked up the stairs, she froze mid step. Voices. She was sure she heard voices, in the distance. Walking up the stairs, the voices became louder, although she was unable to hear the actual words. Did Grace have visitors? Stepping into her office, she finds the room empty, no sign of Grace or the source of the other voices. Shrugging it off as her over active writers imagination, she placed the vase on the window sill and sat in the Captains Chair.
Staring out the small eight-paned, timber framed window at the beautiful gardens below, Molly understood with new insight what it must have been like for Grace sitting here over 100 years ago, writing. It was such a inspiring scene and she imagined what it will be like to see the seasons change from this one vantage point, this window providing a frame for nature’s many moods. Lost in her thoughts, Molly is startled by the sound of Grace’s voice.
“Morning!” Grace sings cheerfully. “ Beautiful view isn’t it? How are you today?” Grace leans forward and opens the small sash window, letting the warm air loaded with the sweet scents of the garden waft into the room. Molly responded enthusiastically, pleased to be seeing Grace, “Oh yes Grace, it is simply breathtaking! I had a great sleep thank you. But this morning as I was coming up the stairs, I could hear voices. Do you know where they are coming from or was it just my imagination going overtime? Sometimes I do wonder if all of this is just my imagination….nothing more.”
“Just your imagination? Just your Imagination?” her voice crescendos on the last word. ‘Then what am I? Just your ‘Imagination’? Oh pleeeease…” she drawls, tuts her feigned disgust and turns to put the kettle on. “So can your imagination make me put the kettle on and create a pot of tea that you are able to drink?” she smiled mischievously at Molly. Molly feels silent, contemplating this situation more deeply. Busy making tea, Grace talked to Molly over her shoulder, “The voices you heard as you were coming up the stairs are very real. They are the Spirit People whom are waiting to see you. As your ability to see into this Realm becomes stronger, you will also see them.”
“Waiting to see me? Why me and what for?” Molly is curious at what is unfolding here.
“Well, they have stories for you to write.”
Surprised at this announcement and animated with the anticipation of a new project, Molly starts dancing around the room. “Oh Grace, this is very, very exciting! Wow, a real Ghost Writer! When can we start?”
‘After we have had a cup of tea. The day always starts well with a cup of tea, don’t you think?” Grace replied, pouring tea from a pretty fine bone china teapot into matching tea cups. “Now lets get some momentum happening with this shall we?” she said as she motioned for Molly to join her at the table.
“Ding, dong,” rings the doorbell.
“Since when do we have a doorbell, Grace?”
“Since you agreed to listen to Ghost Stories!” replied Grace, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now, I wonder who it could be…” her voice trails off as she walks across the room to answer the door. No sooner had she touched the door handle, the door flew open with great force and all they can see is the outline of a very large man, his body filled the doorway.
“Oh shit!” Molly exclaims under her breath, and Grace looks startled, her head poking out from behind the door which had almost flattened her against the wall. Molly stands in the middle of the room unable to move as this impressive man strides through the doorway towards her, followed by an entourage of several other younger men, not quite so large in stature. The older man is very well built, muscular, solid and makes his commanding presence very real. He is dressed in a skirt made of woven grasses and is wearing a large piece of ornately carved pounamou. His arms and legs are decorated with tribal tattoo’s, but his face is untouched. Molly had been anxiously anticipating this moment, actually dreading it. Not a good space to be in to be working in the Spirit World with these people! She feels completely unprepared. He struts across the room slowly and purposefully, picking up and sniffing things as he goes, grunting and nodding his approval to the other men. His eyes light up seeing the winged armchairs, sits down making himself comfortable and sensually strokes the fabric, a glimmer of a smile flickers across his face, enjoying the sensations of touch and smell. The other men stand close by, stern, serious faces with guarded darting eyes, scanning the room. Somehow, they all seem familiar….
Grace breaks the awkward silence, “Tea, can I get you gentlemen a cup of tea?” They all look towards the older man, who grunts in acceptance, his lips curl downwards as he nods his head upwards and the others chatter in nervous agreement. Grace and Molly take this chance to talk whilst busying themselves making tea.
“ Please – do explain,” Grace insists. To which Molly whispers a reply, “I think this is one of the chiefs the old woman last night was talking about, the one that the Gate Keepers refer to as ‘He Who Shall Not Be Named’. Damn it, I was hoping that I would not have to face them personally.”
“Now is the time to get clear on our intention before we discuss anything with him. What is it that you want here Molly?” asks Grace.
“I want him to go Home now, peacefully,” Molly replies. “So be it!” Agrees Grace, before she takes the tea set on a tray over to the sea chest table between the two arm chairs. Sitting on the floor by the table Grace pours tea and places each delicate china cup and saucer into the massive hands of these men. Watching them sipping tea politely and nodding approval of the flavour of the beverage, Grace and Molly respectfully contained their giggles into a controlled smile. They had no idea what they were in for.
The chief takes a deep breath and relaxed back into the armchair, sighing contentedly, delicately balancing his teacup in his hands and crossing one leg over the other, he raises an eyebrow to one of the other men and then they all burst out laughing in an infectious giggle. They began to laugh so hard that one of them falls to the floor doubled over and Molly recognised that these younger men are The Maori Boys who she had met on their recent road trip. But who is the older man? Molly knew in her heart who it was and she was fearful of him. He had a very dark history. The laughing subsides to giggles and finally they sit up smiling, catching their breath. The older man hands his cup to Grace, stands up proudly and clears his throat, preparing to address them.
He looks down at Molly and says, “The Boys here tell me that you are able to see us as Spirits. Not many are able to. So now we know you are ready to listen.” From her position on the floor, she nods in agreement (considering the company, what else could she do?)
Appearing weary, he leans his body against the back of the armchair allowing it to support his weary body, as if he is too tired to remain standing, and beckons for Molly to come closer. “For too long now we have been unsettled here in Spirit, too many wrongs to be righted. For too long now we have wanted peace, but the struggle continues as those in the Physical keep retelling the horrid past. I am not proud of what I instigated, but it is the Past and I am ready to move on now. The energy of retelling these stories holds us in this World Between Worlds, preventing us from moving on. There must be forgiveness. They will never forget, however it is the intention in which the storytelling is to be done. Great stories are worthy of sharing on, there is ancient wisdom in them. We want the wisdom to be shared in these stories of days now passed. Less focus on the terrible injustices which were performed by so many. Tell the stories of bravery, and amazing outcomes, for there were many of these.” A brief smile of contentment flickers across his serious face. “They do not know what they are keeping active here in the Spirit World merely by the passion in their conversation. They are unaware of how the Spirit World works or that it even exists.……” he hesitates, looks longingly at the seat of the soft, well padded armchair and then to Molly again questioningly, almost if he is asking for her permission to be seated. She directs her hand, and nods her head towards the armchair, indicating for him to take a seat again. He sits down and relaxes back into the armchair and sighs heavily, resonating a deep surrender. He then continues, “and now I can say at last, without weakness or resignation…I am tired. I am tired of all of the fighting, the struggle, the resistance, the hardship,” he stares off into the empty fireplace, lost in his own thoughts. They wait patiently, until some time has passed, and his consciousness returns to them. He looks straight at Molly, demanding her undivided attention with his penetrating gaze. “I am tired, I want peace and I am ready to go Home.”
Well, you could have knocked Molly over with a feather! There she was dreading confrontation with this powerful Spirit Person, fearful of how she was to convince him that it was time for him to go Home, and he had already come to that conclusion himself! With a look of deep understanding on his face, he continues. “I can see the repetition of this energy stuck here in this World Between Worlds. It is like a loop playing out over and over again. Now, seeing the outcomes of the actions of others from here and realising that time has passed and there are many, many more people living on this land than ever before. I can see the disharmony, discontentment, disagreements, anger, rage, resentment, grief, sorrow, sadness, depression, unrest and how it is affecting my people. For they still are my people and I feel responsible for them. They are the future of this land, the children are their future. What was then for us, no longer fits for them now. Things must change, and I now know I need to go Home, it will release the effects of my actions of the past, and enable them to move forward into a very different future. Who I am now, is not who I was then, but they cannot see what I have become. They only remember me by what they have been told. And like all stories retold time and time again, there are bits left out and bits added in, it changes and it becomes other than what it originally was. I want them to embrace the good I have done, for this is rarely spoken about. And there are others like me, the conflict between us must end. We need your help, can you take us Home?”
Molly looks to Grace for a bit of guidance here, unsure of what to say or do. Grace nods her head eagerly at the Chief, a huge smile on her face. She loves moments like this, when Spirit People are ready to move on. The Boys are keen for more tea and the older man is sitting slumped in the chair. Molly moves over to sit by his feet, looking up at him. There is a softness to his face now, of a warrior who has won his battle and is ready to go Home. Without opening his eyes, he says, “my feet hurt, got any Kawakawa balm?” and smiles sheepishly, playfully wriggling his toes at Molly. Grace gets a small pottle of Kawakawa balm from the kitchen cupboard and Molly rubs it into his leathery feet. He sighs, relaxed and nestles back into the armchair. Before long, his breathing deepens and a gentle snore escapes his open mouth. They all breathe a sigh of relief. But now what? How is Molly to help these Spirit People move on?
There is a gentle knock on the door. Grace opens it to find the Gate Keepers standing outside. “Aunties!” The Boys exclaim in unison and one gets up from the floor to greet them with a hug. Lots of laughter fills the room with these Spirit People who really are bigger than the room can comfortably contain. However, this is in The Attic, where Molly is learning quickly that anything can, and does, happen without explanation. Grace busy’s herself being the host and making more pots of tea for the growing number of visitors filling the room. As Molly gives her a hand, she whispers in Grace’s ear, “this is not what I expected at all!” Grace, with a smile like the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland, is very pleased with herself. Molly realises that Grace has been up to some magic. She is yet to understand the significance of this important meeting and the ripple effect this energetic shift will create which will move throughout the universe endlessly.