The
evening
has
already
turned
into
night
in
the
Garden
of
Gethsemane.
Yeshua, dressed
in
his
usual
robe
of
white
cotton,
stands
out
against
the
dense,
dark
mass
of
the
ancient
olive
trees
under
which
he
and
some
of
his
followers
have,
as
was
the
custom,
gathered
before
separating
for
the
night.
Yehudah/Judas
is
by
Yeshua’s
side.
The
others,
seated
on
rocks,
seem
lost
in
thought.
The
sound
of
pebbles
rolling
nearby
momentarily,
once
again,
breaks
the
silence,
but
only
he
seems
to
hear
it.
Yeshua
looks
into
Yehuda’s
eyes
and
nods
imperceptibly.
“You
will
do
it
before
the
hour
passes,
Yehudah.”
The
taller
man
averts
his
eyes.
Yeshua
cups
a
hand
under
his
friend’s
chin
to
force
eye
contact.
“The
moment
is
fast
settling
in
the
shadows.
You
gave
me
your
word.”
Yehudah
grumbles
under
his
breath,
“What
worse
favor
can
a
man
ask
of
his
friend
than
that
to
which
you
bind
me?”
“No
favor
is
greater,
and
no
friend
is
greater
than
the
one
bound
to
the
promise
I
extracted
from
you.”
Yeshua
sighs
quietly.
“Accept
that
such
is
my
mitzvah
to
you.
Do
what
needs
to
be
done,
my
friend.
Know
that
you
make
my
burden
lighter.”
Henods
towards
the
trees
where
the
danger
lies
in
wait.
“Think
of
me
as
the
slave
who
sacrifices
his
life
to
obey
the
wish
of
his
beloved
Master
for
it
is
from
Adonai,
our
one
and
only
God,
from
whence
comes
the
suffering
that
awaits
me.”
Pensively,
he
twists
an
earlock
around
his
index
finger.
“No
matter
how
the
situation
evolves
in
days
to
come,
know
that
I
am
not
worth
a
shekel
more
than
the
weakest
of
slaves.”
Before
Yehudah
can
reply,
Yeshua
turns
away
to
call
the
others
closer.
They
look
at
him
expectantly.
"I
say
to
you
that
one
of
you
will
betray
Me,”
he
announces
solemnly.
“Surely
not
I,
Lord?'
exclaims
one
of
the
men
gathered
in
front
of
him.
“The
Son
of
Man
is
to
go,”
he
replies,
“just
as
it
is
written
of
Him.
More
inwardly
agitated
than
he
had
anticipated,
Yeshua
speaks
cryptically.
His
tone
worries
the
men
more
than
his
words,
which
they
do
not
fully
grasp.
In the branches above, an owl begins her nightly call. “Speak words we understand, Yeshua,” urges Shimon. Yeshua furrows his brow in concentration. Long fingers weav
My Writings
Courage comes from
our willingness to trust
and be humble little
bling mice in a maze. No
idea in which direction lie the
covered morsels of cheese. No
idea behind which are hidden
the punishing electrical
pulses.
A fantasy fairytale
minus the fairy.
Proceed with caution.
(13 pages)
People need to
understand that life is
not about what they
wish to see happen. Life is
what actually does HAPPEN ,
moment by moment. Every
catalyst, regardless of its
nature, is an invitation to
finalize a debt. If the person
feels unable to honor it – that’s
the end of the journey.
CaroleClaude T.
Written along the lines
of a spiritual Tao tale,
'Awakening' is a
metaphor for accepting What-
Is and not letting the ego-
persona drag us into her
favourite game of What-Ifs.
It is a metaphor for being
present in the moment..
(13 pages)
A novella focusing on
the last 24 hours of
Yeshua's life, from the
moment of his arrest
in Gethsemane, to after his
crucifixion and entombment
in the burial chambers of
Yosef of Arimathea.
READ MORE
(89 pages)
Moomba, loved by all,
finds herself in the
deepest peril.
(4 pages)
Where my writing passion currently lies
For me, beyond stepping up to matters relevant to my day-to-day with my best paw forward, a wishful redesign of ‘the
next moment’ begins with an awareness of the spiritual world that governs all aspects of life on Earth.
The filters through which random questions and thoughts drift in
and out of my awareness are not of a theological nature. Instead,
they stem from an attitude to life that I have fostered through the
ten years of mentoring under Yudit Cohen-Shoore, my Jewish/Israeli
teacher who lived in Jerusalem.
The wider consciousness that ensued is constantly challenged – and
reviewed.
Accordingly, my writings are simply intended as an active reflection
on the mindset and behaviours that, frequently through flurries of
reactive impulses, have propelled ancient and modern humanity
onwards - just as our cultivated mindset pushes us via our ego-
persona through the content of this day, today, and every day.
Having said that, I believe it is appropriate to refer, here, to lines from
George Elliot I found one afternoon, while randomly flipping
through piles of books stacked in a second-hand shop. Though I
don’t remember the title of the book, I clearly remember reading that, in regard to all she considered as her best
writing, George Eliot had been aware of whispers from “not herself” which took possession of her thoughts.
In such instances, she felt her physical persona was merely the instrument through which a creative spirit was guiding
her writing.
When it comes to my own ‘whisperer’, my muse, the source of my inspiration, the one who has infused my mind with
the many thoughts now bound into the cover of Stepping Stones To the Top Of The World – and in my sketch book - I
have no doubt that her name is Soul.
The
evening
has
already
turned
into
night
in
the
Garden
of
Gethsemane.
Yeshua, dressed
in
his
usual
robe
of
white
cotton,
stands
out
against
the
dense,
dark
mass
of
the
ancient
olive
trees
under
which
he
and
some
of
his
followers
have,
as
was
the
custom,
gathered
before
separating
for
the
night.
Yehudah/Judas
is
by
Yeshua’s
side.
The
others,
seated
on
rocks,
seem
lost
in
thought.
The
sound
of
pebbles
rolling
nearby
momentarily,
once
again,
breaks
the
silence,
but
only
he
seems
to
hear
it.
Yeshua
looks
into
Yehuda’s
eyes
and
nods
imperceptibly.
“You
will
do
it
before
the
hour
passes,
Yehudah.”
The
taller
man
averts
his
eyes.
Yeshua
cups
a
hand
under
his
friend’s
chin
to
force
eye
contact.
“The
moment
is
fast
settling
in
the
shadows.
You
gave
me
your
word.”
Yehudah
grumbles
under
his
breath,
“What
worse
favor
can
a
man
ask
of
his
friend
than
that
to
which
you
bind
me?”
“No
favor
is
greater,
and
no
friend
is
greater
than
the
one
bound
to
the
promise
I
extracted
from
you.”
Yeshua
sighs
quietly.
“Accept
that
such
is
my
mitzvah
to
you.
Do
what
needs
to
be
done,
my
friend.
Know
that
you
make
my
burden
lighter.”
Henods
towards
the
trees
where
the
danger
lies
in
wait.
“Think
of
me
as
the
slave
who
sacrifices
his
life
to
obey
the
wish
of
his
beloved
Master
for
it
is
from
Adonai,
our
one
and
only
God,
from
whence
comes
the
suffering
that
awaits
me.”
Pensively,
he
twists
an
earlock
around
his
index
finger.
“No
matter
how
the
situation
evolves
in
days
to
come,
know
that
I
am
not
worth
a
shekel
more
than
the
weakest
of
slaves.”
Before
Yehudah
can
reply,
Yeshua
turns
away
to
call
the
others
closer.
They
look
at
him
expectantly.
"I
say
to
you
that
one
of
you
will
betray
Me,”
he
announces
solemnly.
“Surely
not
I,
Lord?'
exclaims
one
of
the
men
gathered
in
front
of
him.
“The
Son
of
Man
is
to
go,”
he
replies,
“just
as
it
is
written
of
Him.
More
inwardly
agitated
than
he
had
anticipated,
Yeshua
speaks
cryptically.
His
tone
worries
the
men
more
than
his
words,
which
they
do
not
fully
grasp.
In the branches above, an owl begins her nightly call. “Speak words we understand, Yeshua,” urges Shimon. Yeshua furrows his brow in concentration. Long fingers weav
JERUSALEM 2007
Short Reads - Easy reads ranging from soulful awakenings to soft erotica.
Stepping Stones - Three dense volumes focussed on holistic spirituality and a rethink of the roles of
our Heart and Soul in our day-to-day.
Warriors We Are – Wide-ranging blogs focussed on an authentic search for a state of heart/mind
coherence.
A small butterfly has
grown tired of her
familiar surroundings
in a flowery forest.
One misty morning, she
decides to leave her comfort
zone in search of adventure.
(13 pages)
What is the best we
can do to show up as
the version of
ourselves, intended to
add to our generation.
Whether you read this text in
2023 or in 2043, I hope it will
be a colourful proliferation of
mind-based challenges.
The
evening
has
already
turned
into
night
in
the
Garden
of
Gethsemane.
Yeshua, dressed
in
his
usual
robe
of
white
cotton,
stands
out
against
the
dense,
dark
mass
of
the
ancient
olive
trees
under
which
he
and
some
of
his
followers
have,
as
was
the
custom,
gathered
before
separating
for
the
night.
Yehudah/Judas
is
by
Yeshua’s
side.
The
others,
seated
on
rocks,
seem
lost
in
thought.
The
sound
of
pebbles
rolling
nearby
momentarily,
once
again,
breaks
the
silence,
but
only
he
seems
to
hear
it.
Yeshua
looks
into
Yehuda’s
eyes
and
nods
imperceptibly.
“You
will
do
it
before
the
hour
passes,
Yehudah.”
The
taller
man
averts
his
eyes.
Yeshua
cups
a
hand
under
his
friend’s
chin
to
force
eye
contact.
“The
moment
is
fast
settling
in
the
shadows.
You
gave
me
your
word.”
Yehudah
grumbles
under
his
breath,
“What
worse
favor
can
a
man
ask
of
his
friend
than
that
to
which
you
bind
me?”
“No
favor
is
greater,
and
no
friend
is
greater
than
the
one
bound
to
the
promise
I
extracted
from
you.”
Yeshua
sighs
quietly.
“Accept
that
such
is
my
mitzvah
to
you.
Do
what
needs
to
be
done,
my
friend.
Know
that
you
make
my
burden
lighter.”
Henods
towards
the
trees
where
the
danger
lies
in
wait.
“Think
of
me
as
the
slave
who
sacrifices
his
life
to
obey
the
wish
of
his
beloved
Master
for
it
is
from
Adonai,
our
one
and
only
God,
from
whence
comes
the
suffering
that
awaits
me.”
Pensively,
he
twists
an
earlock
around
his
index
finger.
“No
matter
how
the
situation
evolves
in
days
to
come,
know
that
I
am
not
worth
a
shekel
more
than
the
weakest
of
slaves.”
Before
Yehudah
can
reply,
Yeshua
turns
away
to
call
the
others
closer.
They
look
at
him
expectantly.
"I
say
to
you
that
one
of
you
will
betray
Me,”
he
announces
solemnly.
“Surely
not
I,
Lord?'
exclaims
one
of
the
men
gathered
in
front
of
him.
“The
Son
of
Man
is
to
go,”
he
replies,
“just
as
it
is
written
of
Him.
More
inwardly
agitated
than
he
had
anticipated,
Yeshua
speaks
cryptically.
His
tone
worries
the
men
more
than
his
words,
which
they
do
not
fully
grasp.
In the branches above, an owl begins her nightly call. “Speak words we understand, Yeshua,” urges Shimon. Yeshua furrows his brow in concentration. Long fingers weav
The
evening
has
already
turned
into
night
in
the
Garden
of
Gethsemane.
Yeshua, dressed
in
his
usual
robe
of
white
cotton,
stands
out
against
the
dense,
dark
mass
of
the
ancient
olive
trees
under
which
he
and
some
of
his
followers
have,
as
was
the
custom,
gathered
before
separating
for
the
night.
Yehudah/Judas
is
by
Yeshua’s
side.
The
others,
seated
on
rocks,
seem
lost
in
thought.
The
sound
of
pebbles
rolling
nearby
momentarily,
once
again,
breaks
the
silence,
but
only
he
seems
to
hear
it.
Yeshua
looks
into
Yehuda’s
eyes
and
nods
imperceptibly.
“You
will
do
it
before
the
hour
passes,
Yehudah.”
The
taller
man
averts
his
eyes.
Yeshua
cups
a
hand
under
his
friend’s
chin
to
force
eye
contact.
“The
moment
is
fast
settling
in
the
shadows.
You
gave
me
your
word.”
Yehudah
grumbles
under
his
breath,
“What
worse
favor
can
a
man
ask
of
his
friend
than
that
to
which
you
bind
me?”
“No
favor
is
greater,
and
no
friend
is
greater
than
the
one
bound
to
the
promise
I
extracted
from
you.”
Yeshua
sighs
quietly.
“Accept
that
such
is
my
mitzvah
to
you.
Do
what
needs
to
be
done,
my
friend.
Know
that
you
make
my
burden
lighter.”
Henods
towards
the
trees
where
the
danger
lies
in
wait.
“Think
of
me
as
the
slave
who
sacrifices
his
life
to
obey
the
wish
of
his
beloved
Master
for
it
is
from
Adonai,
our
one
and
only
God,
from
whence
comes
the
suffering
that
awaits
me.”
Pensively,
he
twists
an
earlock
around
his
index
finger.
“No
matter
how
the
situation
evolves
in
days
to
come,
know
that
I
am
not
worth
a
shekel
more
than
the
weakest
of
slaves.”
Before
Yehudah
can
reply,
Yeshua turns away to call the others closer. They look at him expectantly. "I say to you that one of you will betray Me,” he announces solemnly. “Surely not I, Lord?' exclaims one of the men gathered
My Writings
Courage comes from
our willingness to
trust and be humble
little bling mice in a
maze. No idea in
which direction lie
the covered morsels
of cheese. No idea
behind which are
hidden the
punishing electrical
pulses.
A fantasy fairytale
minus the fairy.
Proceed with caution.
(13 pages)
People need to
understand that life is
not about what they
wish to see happen. Life is
what actually does HAPPEN ,
moment by moment. Every
catalyst, regardless of its
nature, is an invitation to
finalize a debt. If the person
feels unable to honor it – that’s
the end of the journey.
CaroleClaude T.
Written along the lines
of a spiritual Tao tale,
'Awakening' is a
metaphor for accepting What-
Is and not letting the ego-
persona drag us into her
favourite game of What-Ifs.
It is a metaphor for being
present in the moment..
(13 pages)
A novella focusing on
the last 24 hours of
Yeshua's life, from the
moment of his arrest
in Gethsemane, to after his
crucifixion and entombment
in the burial chambers of
Yosef of Arimathea.
READ MORE
(89 pages)
Moomba, loved by all,
finds herself in the
deepest peril.
(4 pages)
Where my writing passion currently lies
For me, beyond stepping up to matters relevant to my day-to-day
with my best paw forward, a wishful redesign of ‘the next
moment’ begins with an awareness of the spiritual world that
governs all aspects of life on Earth.
The filters through which random questions and thoughts drift in
and out of my awareness are not of a theological nature. Instead,
they stem from an attitude to life that I have fostered through
the ten years of mentoring under Yudit Cohen-Shoore, my
Jewish/Israeli teacher who lived in Jerusalem.
The wider consciousness that ensued is constantly challenged –
and reviewed.
Accordingly, my writings are simply intended as an active
reflection on the mindset and behaviours that, frequently
through flurries of reactive impulses, have propelled ancient and
modern humanity onwards - just as our cultivated mindset
pushes us via our ego-persona through the content of this day,
today, and every day.
Having said that, I believe it is appropriate to refer, here, to lines
from George Elliot I found one afternoon, while randomly
flipping through piles of books stacked in a second-hand shop.
Though I don’t remember the title of the book, I clearly
remember reading that, in regard to all she considered as her
best writing, George Eliot had been aware of whispers from “not
herself” which took possession of her thoughts.
In such instances, she felt her physical persona was merely the
instrument through which a creative spirit was guiding her
writing.
When it comes to my own ‘whisperer’, my muse, the source of
my inspiration, the one who has infused my mind with the many
thoughts now bound into the cover of Stepping Stones To the
Top Of The World – and in my sketch book - I have no doubt that
her name is Soul.
JERUSALEM 2007
For me, writing is about the reader and I silently
communicating with each other.
A small butterfly has
grown tired of her
familiar surroundings
in a flowery forest.
One misty morning, she
decides to leave her comfort
zone in search of adventure.
(13 pages)
What is the best we
can do to show up as
the version of
ourselves, intended to
add to our generation.
Whether you read this text in
2023 or in 2043, I hope it will
be a colourful proliferation of
mind-based challenges.
